


I'll Bare My Back (If You Hold The Whip)

by Kinkubus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, BAMF Stiles, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Good Guy Chris Argent, Good Peter Hale, It's not looking great for Lydia either, Kinda still working out how to tag!, M/M, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Very very slow burn Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski- seriously I'm as frustrated as you are!, not Allison Argent Friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinkubus/pseuds/Kinkubus
Summary: After the fiasco with the Nogistune, which Allison barely survived, Stiles is pushed to the fringes of the pack. Alienated from his previous friends and abandoned by the Sheriff who can't deal with his broken son, Stiles slips further and further into a pit of despair. That is until he finds someone even more desperate than he is, and together they forge a bond that will revitalise both their lives and the lives of Scott's crumbling pack.So this is my first fic and it's unbeta'd so any mistakes, please feel free to correct me. That being said, I have not paid attention to canon at all in this story. Allison lives. Gerard is dead, and so is Victoria but the Alpha pack hasn't arrived yet and to be honest the timeline is shot to pieces. Therefore please suspend your disbelief. This is primarily a story about Stiles fighting through all the odds to adopt the entire pack and cuddle them to death, whilst also feeding them healthy food because yes I know you've got werewolf metabolisms Peter but good eating habits are still important ok!





	1. In the Beginning, There was a Stiles. (What the Hell's a Stiles?)

**Author's Note:**

> There will also be many side pairings, Erica and Boyd are the most obvious one. I have them planned out but will not post them. Have fun working them out!
> 
> Also I realise that Scott (and possibly other characters-no spoilers) are out of character. But like i said- I'm playing fast and loose with canon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles escapes the pit.

It’s dark by the time the jeep pulls up in the Stilinski driveway. Stiles sighs at the worrying clunking sound coming from Roscoe’s engine and idly wonders whether he can afford a check-up at the garage this month. There are no lights on in the house, but that isn’t surprising. Stile’s dad has been working later and later recently, in fact Stile’s suspects he’s started sleeping at the station again. Sighing, he lets himself in and starts on dinner, half knowing that the rest of the potato and leak soup, which he leaves aside for his dad, will still be in the pot over the hob when he wakes up tomorrow morning. 

It’s a Friday. There was a time when this was Stile’s favourite day of the week. When Friday night was ScottandStiles’ night and they’d spend the evening playing video games until their eyeballs hurt and catching up with every piece of gossip that they hadn’t managed to share in the previous five days of school. If Stiles closes his eyes now, he can almost hear their laughter as they fight over the last pizza slice, or Scott’s howl of triumph when he finally beat Stiles at COD. No matter how much Stiles might lie to himself, deep down, he knows that they won’t ever be able to go back to that. It doesn’t even matter that Allison escaped the Nogistune by the skin of her teeth, or that Theo’s evil machinations, coming suddenly to light, proved what Stiles had always said about the guy. Even the Donovan debacle couldn’t stop the tide, where Scott came this close to losing his best friend forever, not that he ever considered it like that. ScottandStiles, who had once been inseparable, had split down the middle and Scott had taken everyone in the divorce. Not even his dad was around for him anymore, thought Stiles, staring around the empty kitchen. He caught sight of the empty whiskey bottle in the bin, and a tiny whimper escaped before he clamped down on the traitorous well of emotions creeping up his throat. He couldn’t believe it was happening again, his father had pulled away yet again, yet again decided that his son was too much trouble, too much of a pain. He remembered when he used to wake up screaming from nightmares to find himself surrounded by his father’s arms and his strong, comforting scent of gun oil and Old Spice. Now, if he woke up at all, all he had to comfort him was his tear-stained pillow and an echoing empty house. 

~*~

Stiles woke up to a pebble hitting his window. The pebble was a middle ground between being cut off entirely from the pack, and his insistence of wolfsbane proofing his window ledge. Sooner or later a non-friendly wolf was going to come a-calling and Stile’s wanted to at least have some measure of defence. Dragging himself out of his bed, Stiles growled under his breath as he saw the time was 3:45. He shoved open the window, muttering about keeping a flask of coffee beside the bed for situations like this. 

“Good morning sweetheart.”

“….. Fuck off Peter.”

“Now is that any way to treat someone who’s trying to help you? I didn’t have to be here you know. I could just go back to bed. You know my nice, comfy, warm, toasty bed in my nice, comfy, warm apartment, where I could sleep until 10 in the morning because I don’t need to get up for school in a few hours….”

“Alright, alright, I’ll come down and unlock the door, bloody troll of a creeperwolf.”

Peter meets him at the front step and shoulders his way into the kitchen. Stiles feels like he should be offended, but he’s tired and it’s way too early in the morning to try to educate Peter about social boundaries. Again. So he just rolls his eyes and looks down at the book that Peter shoved into his arms. 

“It’s an updated Bestiary. I know the one you’ve got is in German, and it’s also fifteen years out of date. This will be much more useful. Why have you left soup on the stove? Do you not know where the dishwasher is?”

“Prat, I know where it is, you prick. It’s for my dad when he gets back.” He purposefully doesn’t say if. Peter’s eyebrows reach new heights of disbelief. 

‘Stiles, it’s almost four o’clock.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“So….thank you for the book. Where did you get it, the German one is the only one I could find?”

“It’s from the Hale Vault. It’s not as if Derek’s going to check anytime soon.”

“Wait…really? This belongs to your family? Seriously dude?”

“Don’t call me dude, and yes. I believe Talia even wrote notes in it on occasion. I assume it’ll be helpful.”

“So helpful, oh God, you don’t even know!”

“Good.”  
The silence stretched on. Stiles scuffs his sock covered feet against the the tiles. Peter states fixedly over his head at the fridge. Finally Stile’s breaks.

“So…um… do you wanna have the rest of the soup? I can reheat it? You know, if you want. I know you’ve probably got better stuff back in your cosy-ass apartment but….” He trails off and eventually meets Peter’s eyes. There’s a flash of something that almost seems like Peter’s pleasantly surprised before his smug smirky mask comes back down.

“No thank you, sweetheart. As you say, I’ve got much better at home.”

“Right, okay…of course. Right.”

Peter nods decisively, as if putting a full stop after this conversation, turns sharply on his heel and marches out. Rather bemused, Stiles bolts the door after him and turns back to look at the book. There’s no point going back to bed now. He might as well start reading.

~*~

Awkward as the first meeting was, Peter doesn’t stop coming to see Stiles, often at purposefully impossible hours of the morning. He brings more books, some perfectly human ones about breathing techniques and stories from trauma survivors, which Stiles accepts with a confused look but no complaint. Others are less innocent, with texts devoted to pack hierarchy, the role of an Emissary and how to channel your spark. Peter even provides him with an email address to a pack in Spain, who had a historical trade deal with the Hales and have been distant but reliable allies. Stiles isn’t sure why Peter has suddenly found his generous streak, especially as some of these books come from the Hale Vault, but he’s not going to turn down free knowledge and a chance to fully understand facts and traditions he had previously only guessed at. It’s not until Peter turns up with a pot of St John’s Wart, which Stiles has read helps young Sparks balance their magical energy, that Stiles snaps.

“Seriously dude, what the hell? I mean, don’t get me wrong, all this stuff is great, amazing, so so helpful. But why me? Why are you giving me this stuff? I’m barely in the pack anymore, Scott never really calls and I know you’ve all had pack meetings without me in the last weeks. So why are you bothering?”

Peter pauses. As he looks at Stiles, his expression seems to waver and then his shoulders sag. 

“Why do you think Stiles? If you’re on the fringes of this pack then where am I? You say Scott never calls now? He’s never called me at all. The only reason I know about the pack meetings is because they happen at my apartment, what with the Hale House and the train depot not being the best place for teenagers to secretly meet up. Derek can hardly look at me, the rest of them don’t even bother to hide their disgust when they see me. You’re the only person who bothers to speak to me. You ask me questions about the books, you thank me for my help, you try to force your leftover dinner on me, and you aren’t put off when I turn you down each time. I’m sorry and if it really bothers you that much, of course I’ll stop, but it feels like…”

“What does it feel like?” breathes Stiles.

“….Like having an Alpha again.”

Again the silence descends. Again there’s an awkward shuffle as Peter resolutely doesn’t look at Stiles and Stiles just stares at him, trying to make sense of that last piece of information.

“What?”

“Nothing…seriously Stiles, I’ll be fine. I should probably be going now…”

“You’re going nowhere creeperwolf. Please just… let’s sit down alright? Ok…so I’m acting like an Alpha towards you and you’re ok with that? But how can I even be an Alpha, I’m human?”

“Well, that’s the thing, you’re not entirely human are you? You’ve been doing those exercises for Sparks so you know that you’re something supernatural, a kind of magic user. And even humans can be Alphas, it’s not really about the bite and more about the bond. You’re the only one I have a real bond with anymore.”

Stiles looks at Peter. The werewolf’s hunched in his seat, staring fixedly at the table top. Stiles can’t imagine what it must have cost Peter to admit all of this. How desperate he must be to let all of his masks fall so suddenly. He also knows, from his books on pack hierarchy, that what he does next will change everything. If he rejects Peter, he could risk turning Omega and, what with his questionable mental state, he could go rogue. But, even worse, if he rejects Peter, he’s not sure what that would do to the wolf’s psyche. He was rejected by Laura, then by Scott, then again by Derek, and now it seems as if the pack’s turned against him as well. Stiles feels almost literal bonds tugging his heart and he knows that he can’t turn away from Peter now. So he grips the werewolf’s hands in his and says;

“Then I guess we’re gonna be a little pack of two.” 

Peter’s head snaps up and his eyes light up with an almost wild hope. Stiles smiles, and, telegraphing his actions like crazy, softly grips the side of Peter’s neck. It’s almost as if strings have been cut and the tension across Peter’s shoulders releases with a palpable sigh as he relaxes into Stiles’ hand. They stay like that for a while, a weary boy and a broken man, sharing the silence and the comfort of being touched by someone they trust, before Stiles turns to reheat the slice of cottage pie he’d left out.

The corner of Peter’s mouth twitches up.


	2. A Werewolf Swallowed A Watch (And Now He Has Ticks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get more serious. Plot has arrived!

They get into a comfortable rhythm. Peter comes around earlier and, instead of leaving out the leftovers, the two share the meal between them. It’s not as if the Sheriff is ever going to notice anyway. Peter continues bringing over things that he thinks will help, and Stiles stops considering these things as favours he will eventually have to repay, but rather as Peter’s efforts to build a stronger pack. Now they read the books together and Stiles can ask questions, sure in the knowledge that Peter will never lead him astray. Sometimes they don’t even discuss the pack at all, sometimes they just sit next to each other on the sofa, semi-watching whatever’s on telly. It was weird to begin with but they’ve slowly found their niche with each other and Stiles finds that he can get through a day of blank faces and brush-offs from Scott so much easier when he knows he’ll have Peter to come home to.

Not that everything in school is horrible. Horrible makes it sound like it’s a fresh wound every day, whereas Stiles finds that he’s become accustomed to the weeks of ghosting from his former friends. At first it had hurt. It had been like a stab in the heart every time Erica turned away in the corridor, or the way Isaac seemed to have taken his place as Scott’s best friend. He wondered how desperate he had been if he was even missing Jackson’s taunts and shoulder barges into the lockers. Of course Scott’s abandonment had hit the hardest. Not that Stiles blames him, it might not have been him who had threatened Allison but it was still his face, his voice, his body which had wrought such destruction. And he was definitely in his right mind when he’d killed Donovan, and no matter how much he pleaded self defence, Scott’s black-and-white conscience stood firm. It had hurt, and every day he had come home to an empty house feeling just that little bit worse. But nowadays, those hits were like pinpricks against his skin, they hurt but not enough to bother him, and he knew, from the way that Peter no longer sent him worried looks, that he was looking healthier.

“Stiles are you even listening?”

Stiles looked up sharply. Peter was in front of him, with that look that said he was trying really hard to look disapproving but it was just coming out fond.

“Not at all, sorry, got distracted. What were you saying?” Peter rolled his eyes.

“What I was saying was that I got you this.” He waved a piece of paper obnoxiously in front of Stiles’ face. Stiles grinned; the return of the sass was a good sign Peter was feeling better. “It’s a permit for you to carry Wolfsbane bullets. In the old pack,” and here Peter broke off for a second, “In the old pack, a human could get signed permission from the Alpha to carry wolfsbane for their protection. Now I know you’re the Alpha but you can hardly give yourself permission, and seeing as I was an Alpha once, I’m guessing it’s probably valid.”

“Wow dude, thanks but I already have wolfsbane. That’s why you come through the door every night like a civilised wolfish being.”

“I know,” Peter sighed with the appearance of one who is trying really really hard to be patient. “But this way you can go to Argent and get bullets. I know you know how to fire your dad’s guns. It’s just something to keep on hand, we’re only a pack of two and God know what’ll happen if another threat steamrollers its way into town before we’re strong enough to have you declared a proper Alpha.”

Stiles was shocked. Not for the first time he marvelled at Peter’s ability to plan for the future.

“Thanks man.”

Peter nods.

“Yes well… I would have got you the bullets but…”

“Yeah I get you… Argents man.”

“Yeah,” says Peter woodenly, “Argents.”

~*~

It had seemed a good idea. Peter’s reasoning was certainly valid and, as a cop kid, Stiles knew that sometimes the best defence is a good offence. Chris hadn’t seem to have any problems handing over the bullets, even praising him for his foresight. His face quickly shut down when Stiles mentioned Peter was the one who told him where to go, but Stiles supposed he should have expected that. Everything seemed fine, and Peter even managed a genuine smile when Stiles long-sufferingly demonstrated how to load and unload each of his dad’s old revolvers. Stiles went to bed that evening with a smile on his face, feeling safe with the pack bond slightly thrumming under his skin.

However, like all sunny reprieves, the storm soon descended again. His morning trek through the corridors with the rest of the school was interrupted, as he was grabbed by the arm and propelled into an empty classroom. Blinking to reorientate himself, Stiles found himself shoved into the centre of the room and turned to see Scott slamming the door closed behind him.

“What the hell, man?” Stiles carefully pushed up his sleeve and saw the emerging bruises around his elbow.

“Don’t pretend Stiles,” sneered Scott, “Ally saw you. You might think you can fool the rest of them but not me.”

“Allison saw me do what, Scott? What do you think I’m doing?”

“Don’t think I’m giving you ideas! I’m not going to make it easier for you to get to us! But know this, I’m wise to this scheme. Give it up now Stiles, before you get people hurt.”

Stiles gaped, staring bewilderedly at the fuming werewolf in front of him.

“Scott, you’re not making sense. Why would I be trying to get you?”

“Oh, I bet you don’t even need a reason, do you? How long have you been planning this, was it ever since Peter turned me? That was always your style, wasn’t it? Stay in the shadows, and I never would have noticed what you were doing. But you didn’t bank on Ally, did you? She saw you and she’s got you all worked out!”

“Scott, man, seriously I have no idea what you’re-”

“I KNOW ABOUT THE WOLFSBANE STILES,” roared Scott. He seems almost demented; his eyes flickering between brown and blood-red. “I know you bought the bullets from Chris. Who were you going to use them on first, huh? Me? Jackson? Anyone who disagreed with you?”

“No Scott! I promise you, they were just for defence-” Stile began to plead his case but again was cut off.

“-You’ve used the defence argument too many times, Stiles. Your so-called self-defence got someone killed.”

“This is very different Scott. Donovan was trying to eat my leg! Sorry for not laying down and letting him have at it!”

The fight might have escalated, steam seemed to be almost pouring from Scott’s ears, but serendipitously the bell rang and Scott turned with a huff and marched out of the room. Stiles was left, staring at the space where his ex-best friend had been, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and wondering what happened to make it all go wrong.

~*~

As in all times of stress, Stiles sought comfort in his mum’s old jeep. He sat in the driver’s seat, staring out the windshield at the car park and gripping the steering wheel tightly, as one might grip a security blanket. He’d been there for the past hour and the words “your so-called self-defence got someone killed” circled continuously round his head. He can’t even deny it. He did kill someone, he does have Donovan’s blood on his hands, and whilst he might have come to terms with it (his constant nightmares notwithstanding), that doesn’t mean that he should have expected Scott to ever accept it. Scott has always viewed things in simple white and black, good and evil. Apparently it had been futile to hope he might change. Stiles supposed it was a blessing he hadn’t found out about Peter yet, that might have really tipped him over the edge. A sharp rap on the jeep’s door wakes him from his destructive reverie. There, shifting from one foot to another and peering shyly into the jeep, stands Isaac. Stiles’ stomach, which had been previously resting just below the earth’s crust, now sinks further down to meet the rising wave of angry magma. What the hell was Isaac doing here? It clearly wasn’t enough for some people, he already knew he had no place in the pack, and that exclusion apparently had expanded to include any public social interactions. And now, on top of the recent reminder of Scott’s low opinion of him, he now had to deal with his replacement as Scott’s best friend 2.0.

Isaac’s mouth hung open. Stiles’ mind back peddled and realised that his lack of brain-to-mouth filter had once again dobbed him in it.

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean-“

“Right, so maybe I should go- wait, what?”

Stiles paused. “You don’t need to leave. I didn’t mean to come out with all that, I’m sorry… I’ve just had a really bad day.”

Isaac looked at him warily, his eyes partially hidden by curls. “Scott right?”

Stiles sighed in resignation. “You heard all that?”

“Kinda hard to miss.”

Great. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Stiles’ shoulders slumped and he rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Weeks, nigh on months, of abandonment, ghosting, whispers behind his back, and crying himself to sleep every night crashed over him in a wave of gut-wrenching pain. A whine next to him made him look up, to be faced with a conflicted-looking Isaac, shifting from foot to foot. Stiles watched as Isaac seemed to come to a decision, before being shocked into silence as Isaac almost lunged at him and engulfed him an awkward hug. His brain temporarily frozen by the unexpected gesture, Stiles remained stock still as Isaac hid his flushed face in his shoulder, and timidly patted his back. Slowly his arms rose and came to rest around Isaac’s back, weakly returning the hug, which only tightened as Isaac sensed his reciprocation. The hug stretched on, as Stiles’ hold on the young beta strengthened until they were both clinging to each other, tears streaming down their cheeks, both revelling in the comfort.

After a while they both broke away, tearily chuckling at each other, and glancing at each other bashfully.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Isaac nods shyly.

“Can we go to my place?”

~*~

Isaac’s place turned out to be the middle of a field. Long since grown over, the grassy expanse was now ruled by weeds, vines and wild flowers. A roughly cut path showed the way through the brambles to the centre, where Isaac had set up a small retreat. There was a tent, a battery-operated radio, a deck chair, several blankets, and a cool box with some drinks and snacks stored inside. To Stiles, it looked like a paradise.

“I used to come here when I was still…”, Stile understood enough to know he meant when I was still living with Him. “The house is only over there, it backs onto the field. He never found me here.”

Stiles sat down on a blanket, leaving the chair for Isaac. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Isaac nodded. “You know that not everyone feels like Scott. Erica and I both believe you that Donovan was self-defence. I reckon Boyd does too, but he never says much anyway. I know Erica wishes she could speak to you about Gerard, but Scott said we couldn’t contact you. He alpha-commanded it.”

Stiles sighed, then frowned. “Wait, if he ordered it, how come you’re talking to me now?”

Isaac smirked. “Technically, you spoke to me first. You, sort of, contacted me. He didn’t say I couldn’t reply.”

Stiles’ mouth split into a genuine grin. “Oh my god! You devious little shit! That’s genius!”

Isaac laughed. “I meant it though. Things…aren’t great in Scott’s pack. I get that it’s new and everything and he really is trying. But he’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Just very involved with Allison. He doesn’t really have time for us. When we call, we have about a 50% chance of him answering. And if it’s not a big problem, like a just a nightmare or something, he gets kinda pissy at us. And we hardly ever have meetings, or time together as a pack. I don’t think he really likes being Alpha.”

Stiles frowned pensively, mentally running over everything he’d just heard. He refuted the idea that Scott didn’t like being Alpha. If anything, that was probably the only thing about being a werewolf that Scott did like, but it was possible that he didn’t really understand what being an Alpha meant, and had neglected his responsibilities to the pack unconsciously. A memory of holding up a paralysed Derek in the swimming pool and Scott just hanging up resurfaced. And then there was that thing about Allison…

“Why’s he spending so much time with Allison? I thought he was with Kira?”

“He is. I mean, they both say their dating, and they do date, and kiss and everything. But Allison is often there as well. Like, they’ll be on a date in a café or something and Allison will turn up, and Scott will invite her to join and she just never leaves. Erica says she’s heard Kira crying in the girl’s loos, but when she’s with Scott, they both act like nothing’s wrong.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. That sounded very strange, and miles away from the happy-go-lucky Scott that he knew. Melissa would have almost certainly taught him to treat his girlfriend right. It didn’t make sense. Isaac had kept talking while Stiles’ mind had wandered, and he zoned back in to hear-

“…It’s like this time, I got sent to get ice cream for him and the pack one weekend, we’ve started meeting at his house to avoid Peter, and I was standing in front of these freezers, just staring at the frozen food and the ice cream, but not really seeing it, you know what I mean? And I could hear my heart going a mile-a-minute and I guess I must have looked pretty bad because this old lady asked if I was ok, and before I knew it I was breaking down crying and telling her about… about Him… and I must have scared her out of her mind but she was still really sweet, and offered to pay for my shopping, but I just ran out of the shop. And when I got back to Scott’s house, I know I was still crying and, even if I wasn’t, he must have been able to smell my distress, cos Erica could smell it, but he just went off on one, about how I was a useless beta, and how I couldn’t even do simple things but I-“

“-Ok, I’m gonna stop you right there! You know absolutely none of that is true right? You’re a great beta, and Scott had no right laying into you like that. He could certainly tell you’d had a traumatic day and as an Alpha, he should have comforted you, and perhaps suggested the you go to the shops with another beta, or not at all. He should never have blamed you for a reaction that was not your fault! I hope the others stood up for you.”

“Erica and Boyd took me into another room and I think Kira did say something to Scott, but he can’t have taken it well because when we went back in, he was working on a homework project with Allison and ignoring Kira.”

Stiles pulled the whimpering beta against him and cuddled him aggressively. “Scott should be protecting and nourishing his pack bonds. It’s his duty as Alpha to make sure his betas are happy, not make them terrified of stepping out of line.”

Isaac nodded, his voice muffled from where he’d tucked his head into Stiles’ neck. “I know. Please don’t tell Scott this, but I’ve been going to see Derek. He’s almost always in the train depot now and it’s nice, you know, to see him now and again. I know Scott’s my Alpha and I’m not sharing secrets or anything but Derek just makes me feel accepted again. Everything seems better after I’ve been to see him.”

“It would do. Derek may not have intended to become an Alpha, but he still grew up with an Alpha for a mother. He still saw how she trained his sister to take her place. I’m sure he more than understands an Alpha’s responsibilities, for all that he kinda bungled them before.”

Isaac nodded and they sat in silence for a while, looking out onto the field and enjoying the birdsong they could hear from the far off preserve.

“By the way,” Isaac rouse himself, “how come you know so much about Alphas? I mean- I know you’re the research guy but why were you looking into it?”

Stiles tensed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do here? Sure, he and Isaac were getting on now, but that might be more of a testament to how crappy an Alpha Scott was, rather than any loyalty on Isaac’s part. But still, he felt sorry for the beta, and Isaac certainly wasn’t getting any support from his current Alpha. Alienating him at this point would only cut him off from the one likely ally in the McCall pack, and what with his own tenuous position as Alpha, he couldn’t afford to be picky with his alliances.

"There is a very good reason. But I’m pretty sure Scott would do more than just freak out if he found out. And I’m not sure how Derek would react either.”

Isaac slowly nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. Not unless you give me permission.”

Stiles smiled and related the events of the past weeks, stressing Peter’s certainty that he had no options left, that he was entirely cut off from both packs. “In a way, I think that’s why we both work together so well. We both felt the bonds break, although I’m only human so I suppose it was less painful for me.” He very carefully left out all mentions of his spark. No need to go rocking the boat too much.

Isaac’s mouth gaped open. “Humans can become Alphas?”

“Apparently so. Although I think it’s only in exceptional circumstances. Like if Derek reaffirmed his claim on Peter as his beta, then his might get precedence? I’m not sure, there isn’t a great deal information about human Alphas.”

Isaac nodded and they both sat in contemplative silence, their minds whirring.

Stiles was the first to speak. “Look Isaac, if it’s too much for you or you’re too weirded out-“

“No! I’m not weird out or anything! It’s just… I know Peter wasn’t a good example of a responsible Alpha, and I know Derek probably won’t do anything about us unless we’re in real danger, but if you’re becoming an Alpha…”

“If you’re thinking I can teach Scott about his responsibilities then I’m sorry but that ship has definitely sailed..”

“No, not that. Just… maybe we, I mean Erica, Boyd and I, could come over sometime? Because we do miss you and we miss having pack bonds and, well…” Isaac trailed off, looking down defeatedly at the grass.

Stiles, not for the first time that day, felt himself at a loss. “Well, I suppose you could come over. If you wanted? I’d have to talk to Peter about it though.”

The beaming smile on Isaac’s face put his mind at rest though and he pulled the teen back into a tight hug.

“You’ll always be welcome in my pack, man.” Both boys gasped as a shiny, new pack bond snapped into place between them, thrumming with contentment and potential. Isaac let out a sigh of pure happiness, and curled up against Stiles’ side, mentally poking the bond and giggling when reverberated in place. The two stayed out almost until the sun set, and Stiles decided he had to get home or risk being late to his meeting with Peter. They parted at his jeep, Isaac armed with permission to tell Erica and Boyd about Stiles’ newly discovered Alpha-ness. Stiles had got into the driver’s seat before Isaac’s arms had reached through the jeep’s window, and wound his hipster scarf around his throat.

“Just in case…I didn’t want you to forget….”

Stiles’ throat felt choked up. “I promise, I won’t forget. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Isaac nodded and waved until the jeep was out of sight.


	3. Oh Lord, Punish Me Not In Thy Anger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are revealed and connections are forged.

There was already a light on in in the kitchen window as Stiles eased his jeep into the driveway. It struck him as startling how comforting that sight was; the idea that there was someone waiting for him, that when he opened the door, he’d be greeted by light and warmth, and not a dark, empty rush of stale air. As Stiles drew closer, he could sense the anxious flutterings coming down his Peter bond and before he had even stepped onto the porch, Peter had flung open the door, looking flustered and wearing an apron with a dish cloth twisted between his hands.

“I felt sadness down the bond! And I can still smell your tears! You smell like another pack. What happened, are you ok?”

Stiles nods from where he’s being crushed in a werewolf-strength hug, before wrapping his arms around the panicked beta, and squeezing lightly. “I’m fine, absolutely fine now. Not even a little bit hurt so we don’t need to be crushing my ribs quite so tightly….”

Eventually Peter’s hold eases and he buries his nose in Stiles’ neck, finding reassurance in breathing in his Alpha’s scent and luxuriating in the feelings of strength and comfort coming off his pack bond. They end up at the kitchen table, Peter ladling a fish pie onto their plates. Stiles intersperses his moaned appreciation of a home-made meal he didn’t have to cook, with relating the events of the day, going into particular detail about Isaac’s perspective on Scott’s pack. Peter, predictably, scoffs at Scott’s inability to feel or react to his pack bonds, muttering that he should have bitten Stiles instead. His eyes do light up though when Stiles tells him about the possibility of Erica and Boyd joining them. 

“I mean, it’s totally up to them. Like I said, it’s only possible at the moment, not yet a probable or anything approaching a certainty, I haven’t even spoken to them about it and I’m not sure how they’re going to react. I mean Gerard… happened… and I don’t know how they’re going to feel about seeing me and-“

“-Stiles!” Peter lays his hands over Stiles’, quieting the storm of panicked words spilling from his mouth. “It’s going to be fine. I think it’s a great idea if they join. Building your pack will stabilise your Alpha, make you feel more settled and secure here. Plus if a new threat rolls into town, having a unified pack is a far better deterrent than several splintered supernaturals on the fringes of a barely functional pack.”

Stiles winces at the blunt description, but nods, acknowledging the truth of the situation. What with the contentment of the afternoon, he had almost blocked out the disastrous morning.

“I just can’t understand what’s going on in Scott’s head now. Of course I get his hatred of me, but turning it against Isaac? And ignoring Kira? I mean she’s the sweetest girl ever and Scott and Isaac have been practically joined at the hip since they met.”

Peter sighed. “I wouldn’t want to imply I know anything about the inside of McCall’s head. It sounds like a very quiet place to be. However, from Isaac’s description it sounds as if Allison is doing most of his thinking for him.”

“Wait you think she’s, what, manipulating him? Turning him against his own pack? Why would she do that? She’s not… I mean, she wouldn’t do… she was brought up differently to the rest of the Argents!”

“I am aware of that, sweetheart. Do not assume this is simply anti-Argent bias, I know she is not Kate. But the fact remains that she grew up idolising her aunt. And recently she was easily manipulated by Gerard. Equally, whilst I accept that Chris kept her separate from the more trigger-happy sections of the family, she still had Victoria for a mother. And believe me, a more unforgiving, pitiless Ice Queen never lived. Victoria ruled her husband with a will of iron and I have no doubt she taught her daughter how to mould her future partner into whatever she wanted. Taking the circumstances of her death into consideration, I have no doubt Allison is very anti-werewolf right now, for all that she hides it well.”

Silence followed that revelation. Peter’s gaze rested on the table top, whilst Stiles’ brain was whirring to process the new information. Scott’s own self hatred surrounding his wolfy parts made a lot more sense now, if Allison was subtly keeping those doubts alive. Plus, if Scott had been repressing his wolf nature, then it’s no wonder his pack instincts hadn’t developed. He was insistent on treating his pack like a group of human friends, where words and regular visual contact was more important that physical touching and pack bonds. This also threw up a concern of Stiles’ own. 

“What if I’m the same? I mean… not like Allison, but what if I’m a horrible Alpha like Scott? I’m not even a werewolf! I don’t have all the instincts. What if-“

“-No sweetheart!” Once again Peter cut him off. He had a habit of doing that. “ You wouldn’t have become my Alpha if you weren’t capable of it to begin with. And you’ve been doing great with me. I mean, I haven’t gone on any rampages recently, despite the fact that occasionally I have been severely tempted. Plus look at Derek. He’s a born wolf, and saw how Talia lead the pack and then how she trained his sister to become Alpha after… well after her. And yet he still messed it up! Instincts don’t mean shit if you don’t listen to them, and not all of them are werewolf-specific instincts. This stuff that you do; the feeding, the contact, the open pack bonds, the sharing information and working together, that’s enough to start with, and more than Derek ever did with them. So forget your worries about this now. Erica and Boyd will either join or they won’t. Isaac sounded positive about the possibility of it happening and even if they don’t you’ve still got him in your camp. And me as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course Stiles. I’m in this for the long haul now.”

“Till the end of the line?”

“… Why do I get the feeling that was a reference?”

“Oh my god, creeperwolf! I mean I know that pop culture isn’t exactly on the top of your list but you’ve been awake for a while now dude! There’s no excuse! And I know you know Captain America is a thing! You bought me an Avengers alarm clock! Right that’s it. We’re having a movie marathon- that sounds like a sufficiently pack-bondy activity. ”

The eye roll he receives is totally worth it.

~*~

That night, as Peter lay in his cold bed in his empty apartment, a wave of loneliness rose up within him and threatened to crush him. In desperation he reached for his bond with Stiles, clinging to it when he felt it reverberate with warmth, even through he could tell the teen was fast asleep. The ghostly face from his past seemed to loom at him from the corners of his room, dressed in a wedding tux and his lips pinched in resignation. Peter’s imagination was a dark and vivid place and well known for turning against him at his vulnerable moments. Peter cursed his imagination as tears tracked down his cheeks. A great sob rose within his gullet and a clawed hand reached for the mirage, desperate for a breath of contact to the man who had once meant the world to him. Through eyes veiled in tears he saw the vision replaced by that of a scowling child of ten, with eyebrows like furry caterpillars, and a quiet voice complaining about his “mean big sister” and begging "Uncle Peter, please get her back for me.” Those words “get her back for me” rattled around Peter’s head as he clutched the frayed ends of the snapped Hale pack bond, his only remaining link to his living family. 

~*~

Far across town, in a girl’s room which smelt of floral perfume and lip gloss, Isaac was curled up on the floor next to Erica’s bed. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t actively trying to stay awake, afraid of chillingly cold dreams from which he would awake shivering and screaming. No, tonight he ran a mental finger over his shiny new pack bond which glistened in front of him when he closed his eyes. He could hear it ringing with Stiles’ laughter and warmth from the day in the field and an unconscious smile found its way onto his lips. If he reached out, he could almost touch the ones he associated with Erica and Boyd, both dormant in sleep, but still giving off a sense of reassurance and comfort. Isaac snuggled down into his sleeping bag, unaware of the faintest tremor in a new bond, hidden behind the others, echoing with uncertainty and fear.

~*~

Lunch in the Beacon Hills High School cafeteria was never a pleasant or fulfilling experience. The food often left a lot to be desired and, since the rift in the pack, Stiles’ seating arrangements had become more and more precarious. A few weeks ago, he had bitten the bullet and had moved to a new, smaller table by the window with his back to the rest of the pack. What? He wasn’t above a little pettiness. Since then he had eaten his gloopy lunch in divine solitude, resolutely convincing himself the pack couldn’t smell his loneliness and longing. However, today it seemed Stiles wasn’t doomed to a lonely half hour with only his over-boiled carrots for company. With his back to the rest of the cafeteria, Stiles missed the look of shock on Scott’s face as Isaac, Erica and Boyd moved on past the pack’s table, like a line of defiant ducklings, and sat down at Stiles’ table instead. Stiles’ head swivelled around to see if Scott would come charging over and repeat the previous morning in a more public setting. But although Scott’s face had moved past puce and was rapidly approaching beetroot in colour, Kira’s hand was tightly clenched on his shoulder and it didn’t look like he was moving. Turning back to the three at his table, Stiles offered a weak smile.

“Hi guys.”

Erica’s smile wobbled. “Hi Batman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the great response! This was a short one but got a longer one coming up!
> 
> Plus the alarm clock is a real thing: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Marvel-Avengers-Ultron-Alarm-Clock/dp/B0106COZWU/ref=pd_sbs_201_1/262-0325784-8281531?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B0106COZWU&pd_rd_r=baa4c89d-84dc-498c-b18e-5729b15241b5&pd_rd_w=8cRkm&pd_rd_wg=0PxLZ&pf_rd_p=7f9048ad-9bda-4493-8578-13e4eff8da65&pf_rd_r=CCY0KMANJHQ4XXB4YRWG&psc=1&refRID=CCY0KMANJHQ4XXB4YRWG


	4. ...Nor Chasten Me In Thy Hot Displeasure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a new pack and a new family to support him. But at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is the longer chapter. Updates may get a bit slower from now on as I am now planning out the rest of the chapters and have some other commitments coming up. Still I hope this makes up for it. 
> 
> Also the side pairings are going to start cropping up from now onwards!

From then on, it seemed as if a wall had broken between them, and relieved smiles wreathed their faces. Both Isaac and Erica apologised (in Isaac’s case, again) for abandoning him when Scott ordered them to and Erica almost burst into tears when Gerard was brought up, saying she felt so bad, hearing what was going on and not being able to help. Boyd didn’t say much but his heartfelt nod after Erica’s tearful apology said it all. Conscious, as they were, that Scott and the rest of the pack could hear what was going on, no details about joining a new pack was mentioned at the table, but through a series of nods, winks and head tilts throughout class, the message was passed on that they would all be going to Stiles’ house this evening to talk more. 

They met up at Stiles’ jeep, and it was agreed for the ease of convenience that Isaac would drive Erica’s car and Erica and Boyd would pile in with Stiles. It had seemed like a great plan, but without Isaac around to act as a buffer, Stiles was left with a typically silent muscle man and a silently guilty catwoman. After about ten minutes of this, he’d reached the end of his rope and started fiddling with the car’s ancient radio. It was, therefore, by complete accident that his finger hit the button at the same time as Duran Duran was breaking into the first chorus and he swears he moved to change it, he really does! But by that point Erica’s eyes had started gleaming and she’d joined in, humming the words under her breath. Stiles looked over, saw the feral grin lighting up her face, and did the only sensible thing he could think of; he joined in. Such was the sight that greeted Isaac, waiting on Stiles’ porch; Stiles and Erica bellowing out the words to Hungry Like The Wolf whilst Boyd smirked unashamedly in the back seat.

Isaac shook his head and giggled.

~*~

Having herded the teens into the kitchen, Stiles unleashed his inner creative dervish and sets them all to chopping and preparing the ingredients for a meatloaf. It was his mother’s recipe and conjured up memories of her off-key singing in the kitchen, and warm family dinners at the table. When his Dad was feeling nostalgic, he would always try and make it, so Stiles had learned it himself to avoid his setting the kitchen on fire. He realised it was silly, but he kinda hoped his mum was watching. He was sure she’d have been proud of him building his own family. 

Stiles’ musings were interrupted by a knock on the door as Peter entered, carrying a six-pack of beer and, for some reason, an iron window box. A hush fell on the previously boisterous kitchen as Peter set the beer and planter down on the table and leaned casually against the wall. But Stiles could see through the carefully crafted I-don’t-give-any-fucks-whatsoever look and knew that Peter was deathly afraid he would be pushed out of this emerging pack too. No matter how much he wants to just bulldoze through the tension in the room and force the pack to accept Peter, Stiles also knows that this must be something the new recruits handle themselves. They all have their separate issues with Peter and although it was made clear at lunch that he came as part of the deal, hearing it and accepting it are two very different things. The tension around the table thickens and Isaac starts slowly edging towards Stiles, who sends him a reassuring smile.

“Are you not gong to say anything?” Erica’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but Stiles knows Peter can probably smell her anger.

“There isn’t much I can say.” Peter’s answer is careful, his gaze, when it rests of the three teenagers, is wary. “I can explain my actions if you are willing to listen, and I can apologise if you are willing to accept it.”

“That doesn’t seem like much, given the circumstances.”

“My actions after I awoke from the coma were that of a crazed beast. I can promise that I am no longer insane, that the pack bonds linking me to Stiles will prevent me from ever losing myself to that extent again.”

“So we’re only safe so long as we accept you in the pack. Even if we don’t want you there?”

Stiles sees the hurt flash across Peter’s face, but before he can jump in Peter has responded.

“I suppose you could look at it like that. There were certainly many within the Hale pack who mistrusted me. I was Talia’s Left Hand.”

When it was clear that the three didn’t recognise the term, Stile broke in with, “A Left Hand was the pack’s enforcer. They would eliminate any threats to the pack that negotiation hadn’t got rid of.”

“Essentially, I killed people. Hunters, rogue Alphas, any other supernatural threats who wanted in on the territory or the pack. It wasn’t a pleasant job, and my position inspired more fear than respect within my own pack but I was glad to do it. I kept my pack safe and my Alpha in power. I never wanted the power for myself, so when I awoke with it coursing through my veins, my mind snapped and reverted to it’s old pattern of protection. So yes, it is true that I do need to be part of this pack. Stiles’ presence as my Alpha has locked away any remnants of my mind that still long for that power. However I promise you all that in return, I will be loyal to this pack. I will protect you against any threat, I will instruct you in anything I know, I will not try to mislead or manipulate you, and all I ask is your trust that I am trying to be better.”

A pregnant pause allowed his little speech, but the hostility had dropped from Erica’s posture. She motioned to the table.

“You brought beer?”

Peter nodded and proceeded to uncap one for her and hand it over, before doing the same for Isaac and Boyd. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and grinned.

“Cool! Come on Creeperwolf, don’t think you’ve got around prep duty just cos you’ve brought us treats. You’re on broccoli.”

A small bubble of chatter refilled the kitchen as Peter made his way to the stove. Once the food was plated and on the table, Isaac, who had claimed pride of place next to Stiles, seems to gather himself and addressed Peter directly.

“Why have you brought Stiles a planter?”

~*~

Curiously enough that seems to break the ice and conversation flowed easily after that, with Peter explaining that with the Spring Equinox approaching, it would be wise for Stiles to have something growing in order to observe the Ostaran rituals. That lead to a discussion about how to set up an Ostara Alter, the various pagan rituals and how important they were in maintaining the balance within the spiritual world. That in turn lead to Stiles explaining his burgeoning Spark which seems to be growing every day, and the huge help Peter had been in helping him practise and giving him instruction. It was decided that they would gather on the Thursday next week, the night of the Equinox, to plant the seeds and do a small ritual together as a pack.

“I take it as a positive sign,” revealed Peter. “The birth of a new pack should be celebrated at the birth of a new year.”

Everyone nodded and Stiles saw Erica watching Peter consideringly. 

“Maybe we could invite Derek?”, Isaac asked. “I know he’s doing his own thing now, but we shouldn’t automatically exclude him. I know Scott was always going on about how the Hales ruined this for all of us, but I think that sounded a lot like the way he talked about Stiles. Besides,” and here he looked sheepishly at the other two, “Derek’s been helping me when the nightmares get too much. Plus he knows loads about History. He was the reason I didn’t fail that paper two weeks ago.”

Erica agreed. “He remembered my birthday when Scott and even my parents forgot. Boyd and I were just going to go to the cinema, but he showed up out of the blue with a card and a store bought cake. We went to the depot and it was nice. I mean he was still scowly and grouchy but it was still sweet.”

Boyd nodded. “He came to find me on the anniversary of the day Alicia went missing.”

A silence went around the table before it was generally agreed that Derek should be asked if he wanted to join. However, as they settled into a puppy pile in front to the TV, Peter remained doubtful that his nephew would accept the invitation once he found out Peter would be there. Because he would be there. Gone were the days of tiptoeing around these people. He had a pack now and an Alpha who accepted him and he was going to fight to keep them.

~*~

Stiles did not slept well. Although his dreams had recently improved, which he put down to the reassurance of having a pack bond and the fact that Peter’s books and conversation kept his brain busy, it seems that this was merely a short-lived reprieve. Instead of a peaceful slumber, Stiles tossed and turned, tormented by the Nogistune’s insidious voice guiding him to ever greater feats of cruelty on his new betas' corpses. He awoke in a cold sweat and immediately felt along the bonds to check if they’re still there. A chorus of concerned emotions filtered through and he relaxed back into the reassurance that his pack is fine, that the Nogistune is gone and no-one’s in immediate danger. He would almost feel ashamed of his dependancy of his pack, but a suspiciously Peter-like voice in is head tells him not to be stupid and that pack protects pack.

Still, the drive to school is nerve wracking, and it’s only the timely arrival of his three new betas which quiets the whirlpool of anxiety in his head. They get through the first set of classes by Stiles sending the mental equivalent of warm hugs down the bonds and brushing up past one another in the corridors. They take their lunch out to the lacrosse field and sit in the stands to avoid Scott’s glares. Stiles breaks out his cookie tin and the stands are soon filled with moans of appreciation and demands for Stiles to take up baking professionally. Boyd, in particular, seems to eat more than the rest and shares a grin with Stiles as Erica brushes cookie crumbs off his chin.

There have been several attempts made by Scott across the course of the morning to get Stiles alone. These have mostly been thwarted by Erica and Isaac bookending Stiles and hurrying him away whilst Boyd folds his arms and looks threatening. However Scott remains true to form in his inability to learn from past failures and continues trying to corner Stiles throughout most of the afternoon. It is getting to the point that Stiles is more than ready to just get it over with if it’ll make him go away but both Erica and Isaac strongly object to this. Thus when Boyd, from his great height, sees Scott hiding unsuccessfully behind a row of lockers, he hustles a protesting Stiles out of the way and Erica pushes Scott into a classroom where Isaac is waiting. 

~*~

Scott stumbles through the door, vaguely disorientated, but when he sees Isaac his eyes narrow and he starts spluttering with indignation.

“You! How dare you show your face here? How could you turn your back on me now? Did you not hear me at the pack meetings? You were there when Stiles was possessed, when Allison was almost killed! How can you stand to be around him after all he has done?”

Isaac dropped his head. He knew why he was here, hell, he’d volunteered. Out of everyone in the new pack, it was reckoned he was the one most likely to talk Scott around, but that didn’t make it easier. He had idolised Scott, believed in him when he had been declared the True Alpha, had run to him for comfort when his father had been particularly bad. He had thought he and Scott had a connection, forged through the trials they had faced side by side. But now he saw how little that had meant to Scott, how incapable he was of seeing beyond his own pain. But still he had to try, if not for himself, then for his new Alpha. He and the rest of the pack could keenly feel the waves of loss rolling off Stiles when he came into contact with Scott, and if Isaac’s own sadness of the end of his friendship felt bad, he couldn’t imagine what it must feel like for Stiles.

“I didn’t come here to antagonise you Scott. I wanted to explain my reasons for why I’ve left. I hope that once you understand, you’ll agree that I had no choice but to go, and that you’ll see why I’m a lot happier now.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to explain anything. It’s clear as day!” Scott’s eyes were once again flickering between brown and blood-red. “You disobeyed my direct order, you fraternised with the enemy and you have betrayed my pack. You and Erica and Boyd, you are all traitors and we’re well shot of you. I can’t even remember why I wanted you around anyway.”

Isaac’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “You don’t mean that Scott. If you calm down you’ll take that back.”

Scott’s eyes gleamed, smelling an easy victory. “No I won’t! You, Erica and Boyd, the freaks of the group. Boyd’s a dumb idiot, more muscle than brain, still grieving for a sister who’s long gone. Erica’s a selfish slut, flirting with anything that walks and only wanted the bite to cure her disease. And you, well what can I say? A traumatised puppy who can’t even follow basic instructions and turns his back on his Alpha the minute he’s not pandered to! I thought I could rely on you Isaac. I mean I know you're not strong, or good in a fight, but still I thought the pathetic crush you had for me would keep you around. But no, apparently you’re just as flighty as Erica, unable to commit to anything or anyone!”

Those last words sent Isaac reeling. He hadn’t known Scott knew about his slight crush on the Alpha, he’d tried so hard to keep his feelings buried, and to be confronted with it now, in just such a way, made him want to curl up into a ball and sob. In a panic, he felt around for his pack bonds, and they strummed with comforting energy and proximity as their respective pack members raced towards the classroom. A soft feeling of acceptance and inclusion surrounded him in a warm embrace. This was what pack should be like. This unconditional love and strength, this unwavering support from those he called family and now he realised how much of that had been missing from Scott’s pack. Isaac uncurled from the defensive posture he’d adopted, and a calm smile spread over his face.

“I never had a bond with you Scott. A bond isn’t a bond if it’s one sided, and you never cared about my feelings, my fears, about keeping me safe, so long as my feelings for you seemed to assure my loyalty. Well, I can tell you right now, that whatever loyalty I had to you was deeply misguided, because I would never pledge myself to someone who was only using me to ground his already shaky power base. Stiles appreciates me, he welcomed me into his pack for no other reason than his need to help those in pain. And I was in pain, Scott. I was in pain every day I was your beta because you trampled over my heart, and you ignored my suffering because acknowledging it might mean that you weren’t the kind, virtuous, pure True Alpha of legend everyone said you were. You might be a True Alpha but there was no truth to be found in your pack. Why don’t you ask Kira about it? She would more than understand what it means to always come second place in your eyes.”

Isaac had begun his tirade at the front of the room and had advanced on a paling Scott until he was almost on top of him, caging him into the wall with his calm, measured and implacable tone. Looking over the top of Scott’s head, he saw his pack by the door, watching. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave”, he said, motioning to the door and they watched as Scott stumbled shocked from the room. 

Immediately he was submerged under a sea of hugs from his pack and a particularly tight embrace from Stiles, who murmured reassurances and promises in his ear over and over again, thanking him for being an amazing beta, and how proud he was of him for standing up for himself. Isaac was glad his face was hidden, because his blush could probably be seen form outer space, but he relaxed into the comfort and support offered by his pack and giggled as Erica started violently ranting about the many ways she could eviscerate Scott. The pack flopped down into a pile on the floor and stayed there, drinking in the confrontation and finally feeling free of any latent responsibility to care about Scott’s opinion.

Suddenly Stiles felt a rush of panic and a sharp stab of pain run through him, which had him clutching his leg in fear and checking for a mark. A wide-eye look around at the others showed them equally afraid and unanimously they all exclaimed, “Peter!”

Quickly the pack scrambled up and grabbed their bags, sprinting out to the car park and piling into Roscoe and Erica’s Toyota. Stiles drove, following the feeling of pain and terror, and they quickly squealed to a stop in from of the Argent’s house. There was no sign of Peter. Fear gripping his insides, Stiles took some small comfort from the fact that Peter was clearly still alive enough to feel the pain coming down the bond. He quickly marshalled his brain together and came up with a rough plan.

“Erica and Boyd, you go check his apartment, Isaac, go to my house and if I don’t call any of you in half an hour, go to the police station and find my dad.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to find Derek.”

~*~

To put the past few hours into context, it is worth rewinding back to this morning after the rest of the pack had left for school. Peter, having woken up with Erica’s elbow in his face and Isaac’s feet across his lap, had been a maelstrom of hope and positive energy. He had cleaned the kitchen counters, brewed coffee and made enough scrambled eggs on toast to feed a small army, never mind a small werewolf pack and one human. Having sent the kids off to school with a smiling face, Peter had suddenly found himself at a loose end. He’d vacuumed the sitting room and reorganised Stiles’ movie collection alphabetically. Having decided that it was a probably a bit creepy to still be here after everyone else had gone, he’d abandoned the safety of his Alpha’s home and returned to his bleak apartment. He’d not been lying to Stiles when he’d said that his bed was big and warm. Everything he owned was of the highest quality, with high thread count sheets and a Californian king sized bed. However, it was still empty. The walls didn’t reverberate with the pack’s laughter, there were no stains on the counter from making dinner together, no extra paraphernalia left behind by a pack mate on the rush to school, secure in the knowledge that it would still be here when they got back. Sitting alone on his leather sofa, Peter’s thoughts couldn’t help but return to the vision his mind had conjured up that last time he was here. Even now, broken shell of a man that he was, his heart still called out for his mate, a man he’d known so long ago and who he’d fought so hard to be allowed to be with. And now, nothing. Nothing but an empty apartment and the silence of his own company waiting for his pack to return. 

Peter shook his head. This was defeatist talk. He’d thought all was lost when the only links to his former life had been a broken bond with Derek and existing on the fringes of a shattered pack. Now he had an Alpha he respected and a growing sense of acceptance with his new pack. Maybe there was hope yet for him and his mate. A cessation of hostilities at least. With this in mind and a new determination in his step, he set off towards the Argent’s house.

~*~

Derek hadn’t meant to come this far into town. He’d been running in the preserve, and had gotten the idea of checking up on the old pack. If they were in school, he could just have a quick look around their houses, just to see if their scents were still there, and if there was any trouble. He wasn’t surprised by the lack of Isaac’s scent around his father’s house. He knew that more recently Isaac had been staying with Erica and Boyd, but as he passed Stiles’ house, he ran into a barrage of scents and impressions. He could smell Erica, Boyd and Isaac and a sense of laughter, good food and happiness. Stiles’ scent was there too, of course, but interestingly so was Peter’s. He wasn’t aware of anything really that was happening in his uncle’s life, mainly because he tried to avoid thinking about Peter as often as possible. Now he wondered if, perhaps, that had been a mistake. He could smell Peter’s scent turning away from the house and moving towards the middle of town, as if going towards his own apartment. However, after he’d followed it for about ten minutes, Derek realised that, in fact, it was heading out for the fringes of town, as if Peter had gone to his apartment first but then set off again. Curious Derek followed the scent, with increasing urgency as he realised it was wending it’s way towards the Argent’s property.  
Approaching the house with caution, Derek arrived just in time to see Peter stumble down the porch steps, rebuffed as he had been by the sight of Allison Argent wielding what looked like an old shot gun and ranting at the top of her voice. 

“How dare you come here? You dirty flea-bitten mangy DOG! Haven’t you taken enough from my family? First my aunt, then my grandfather and now my mother? Stay away from us, you have brought nothing but pain to my family!”

On the final word, her finger tightened on the trigger and Peter fell with a punched-out gasp of pain. Rooted to the spot, unwilling to get involved but unable to look away, Derek watched as Allison aimed and fired again, causing Peter to curl up to protect his stomach, his hands covered in blood. The door slammed and Derek sprang forward, racing over to his uncle’s prone body.

“You absolute idiot!” 

“Ah dear nephew, how fitting you should be here to see my rejection.” Peter’s voice was as dry as the Sahara, although his jaw was clenched tight with pain. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “No time for that now. I’m going to lift you and take you back to the depot. I have medical supplies there.”

Not waiting for a reply, Derek hefted his uncle onto his shoulder and sped off just a few minutes before Stiles’ jeep screeched into sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a cliffhanger! 
> 
> If anyone's interested the information about the Spring Equinox and setting up an alter can be found here:https://www.learnreligions.com/all-about-ostara-the-spring-equinox-2562471  
and here:https://www.learnreligions.com/setting-up-your-ostara-altar-2562484
> 
> I wanted to have it set in March because Stiles' birthday is apparently in April, which will soon become relevant!


	5. Of Cabbages and Kings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions are had and information is revealed.

Stiles’ foot was glued flat to the accelerator as he sped towards the depot in record time, definitely, possibly, maybe breaking every speed restriction known to man along the way, but he didn’t care. Getting to Peter was his only concern right now. It amazed him how much the smug zombie-wolf had come to mean to him over the past weeks. If it hadn’t been for Peter, and his research and books and insufferable jokes; the way he wanted people to care about so desperately, but tried equally desperately to hide it, then Stiles would probably still be at home, cooking meals that wouldn’t be eaten and watching his friends dutifully reject him at every turn. If he was an Alpha (and to be honest, he didn’t feel much like one now) then it was entirely down to his first beta’s belief in him. He would not let him down.

Grabbing the medical kit from the jeep, Stiles sprinted towards the depot, following his instincts as he felt himself get nearer and nearer to Peter’s pack bond. As he reached the entrance, a low growl made him slow down and cautiously peer around the wall. He was faced with Derek’s back as the two Hales faced off, hackles raised and claws out, yet seemingly holding back from outright attacking just yet. Realising that both werewolves knew he was there, Stiles slowly inched around the room until he was behind both of them and could keep them both in his line of sight.

“So….not that I want to break up a family reunion but, are you alright Peter? I brought some aconite in case Wolfsbane was involved.”

Without taking his eyes off Derek, Peter slowly nodded and, equally slowly, lifted up his Henley to show the wound on his belly had been cleaned and dressed.

Stiles nodded, “Good, good, cool, great! So the jeep’s outside…”

Again Peter nodded and inched forward towards the door. Derek simultaneously inched out of the way, in an almost choreographed dance, to allow Peter his exit. Stiles watched Peter until he was safely out the door and had moved off in the direction of the jeep before he turned to Derek.

“Thank you for saving him and patching him up.”

No response.

“I mean, you probably didn’t have to do that, and I guess it wasn’t easy, what with all the history, you know what I think I’m just making this worse, so I’m gonna just… yeah.”

This time, Derek’s shoulders moved in a barely noticeable shrug. Deciding that that was probably the best he was going to get, Stiles just nodded a final time and followed Peter, mentally conjuring up the mother of all lectures about how we don’t run off into Argent territory without informing our pack or getting back-up, seriously Peter, you are how old exactly?

~*~

By the time the jeep stopped by the Stilinski house, the pack had already arrived (Stiles had called them en route) and started piling out the door to see for themselves that Peter was alright. Boyd slipped an arm around his waist and helped him from the car, whilst Erica tugged on his hand and towed him into the house, all the while muttering under her breath about wrenching Allison’s arms off and beating her round the head with them. Isaac had, rather shakily, poured Peter a glass of the Sheriff’s whiskey and was standing to the side with a couple of blankets, clearly intending to bombard Peter with soft, cuddly things until he felt better. The Princess Bride is queued up on the screen, popcorn is made, hot chocolate is drunk, and the pack curl around each other in a reassuring snuggle with Peter in the centre. Stiles, squished between Erica and Isaac, smiles and cards his fingers through his beta’s curls, finally feeling the shadows that used to haunt this house slowly dissolving away to be replaced with fond memories and tingling pack bonds.

~*~

For all that puppy piles are a great way of reducing the tension from a situation, Stiles can still see the lingering tautness across Peter’s shoulders. Peering a little closer at the pack bond, it is clear that Peter’s getting overwhelmed by the pack’s concern. After shepherding the others into the kitchen to give them some more privacy, Stiles attacks the problem head-on by laying his feet across Peter’s lap and pointedly glaring at them until Peter concedes and wraps his hands around them. Peter’s massages are amazing. It’s a proven fact.

“So…. wanna tell me what I walked in on before? Between you and Derek? You don’t have to if you don’t want to dude, but-”

“Don’t call me dude. And there’s not much to tell. He wrapped me up, told me I was an idiot, I agreed and then within about five minutes we were at each others throats. Again. It’s an occupational hazard in our family.”  
There wasn’t a lot Stiles could say to that. Weak proclamations like ‘It’ll be ok in the end’ and ‘Derek will come round’ would be worse than useless here, and Stiles had never really grasped subtlety anyway.

In the end, all he could say was, “How can I help?”

Peter smiled at him fondly. “The simple fact that you want to help in the first place is a good start. To be honest pup, I don’t know. What Derek and I had before the fire was precious. He was so innocent, even as a teenager. He’d still come to me for anything, more than he went to Talia. If there was homework he couldn’t do, he’d ask me. If he thought there was a kelpie or something on the preserve, we’d go looking for it together. If someone was bullying him at school, unlikely as it was, I threatened their family with financial ruin. I could tell he relied on me a lot, and in return, I relied on him. He saw me as more than a Left Hand, as something closer to it’s original function, the Pack’s Protector. And now…”

Now, all that gone. Or as good as gone. Stiles could sense Peter’s mood turning increasingly destructive and said the first thing that came into his head.

“So I’m ‘pup now?”

At least it startled a laugh out of Peter. His hands resumed massaging Stiles’ feet as he shook his head fondly.

“I may be your beta Stiles, but you’re still my pup. You might as well accept it.”

Stiles grinned up at him. “Yeah? No point fighting it?”

“No point at all.”

“Okay.”

~*~

Isaac was worried. From what he knows about Peter, and he admits it isn’t loads, running into enemy territory without back up, or letting anyone know where he’s going, seems very out of character. He can see Peter stretched out on the sofa, his face softened by the low light of the lamp next to him. The pack is upstairs, and Stiles has left to see Derek. He’ll never get a better chance to satisfy his curiosity.

Peter’s eyebrows raise as Isaac sits cautiously down next to him. The beta seems to be wrestling about whether to raise the topic and, however much he has matured since his pack bonds were restored, Peter’s still a self-proclaimed arsehole who is not above stretching out the suspense and watching the puppy tie himself in knots. However, eventually even the heights of humour fall flat, and Peter resignedly puts Isaac out of his misery.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I was there.”

Isaac’s eyes widen and Peter huffs in amusement.

“Subtlety thy name is not Isaac. Your feelings could not have been clearer if they were written across your forehead. Go on.”

Tentatively Isaac nods. “It didn’t seem like a well thought out plan.”

“It wasn’t.”

“And I’m guessing that you weren’t there to see Allison.” Stiles had given them all a run down of her shouting match on the front lawn.

“No I wasn’t.”

Silence reigned as both wolves stared at each other, silently daring the other to name the one other person still living in that house. Neither did. Eventually Isaac nods to himself and stands up, moving towards the door. Peter’s voice halts him in his tracks.

“It wasn’t ever supposed to happen. The pack had a provisional treaty with them, but a hunter was still a hunter, and no-one was ever going to accept it. On either side. It started a just a bit of fun, a way to let off steam. There was never any way it would get serious. Until it did.”

The wolf sighed. The love he had shared with Christopher had been passionate and unrelenting. It had slowly snuck up on both of them, lulling them into a false sense of security, as the short encounters in the preserve turned into long-drawn out affairs with soft kisses and words whispered in corners and later clutched against the heart to ward off lonely dreams in empty beds. Even as his flesh burned and guilt ate away at his insides, the memory of Chris’ warm hand cupping his face drew him from despair, and the fire at his back became his lover's strong sturdy body, holding him up.

“It was not the loss of my pack which turned me into the monster you remember. I had lost them gradually over the months before the fire. But a mate bond is the strongest bond a wolf can forge. Even stronger than that with his Alpha. With his mate at his back, a wolf can leave his pack and not go omega. He can disobey an Alpha command without effort. Because when you mate with someone else, you offer up half your soul to that person, and accept half of their soul in return. And once you have lost your soul, you have lost your mind and your reason to live.”

Isaac swallowed. “You gave him a mating bite?”

Peter nodded. “He gave me one too,” and here he traced an invisible circle on his left wrist. “It faded of course, for all that I wished it wouldn’t. But mine didn’t. It stands sharp against his skin to this day, and he wraps a leather cuff around it to hide his shame from his family and the world.”

Peter’s gaze has turned inwards and Isaac can see in his face a look he has often seen reflected in his mirror when he has to excuse the bruising on his body, or hide his limp at practice. Ever so slowly, and glancing at the recumbent wolf’s face constantly, Isaac rests his hand on Peter’s arm, just above the place the bite would be, if it were still visible. No words pass between them, there are none that wold suffice to express the pain both of them feel. But the silence between them is no longer awkward, and their thoughts no longer as dark.

This is how Boyd and Erica find them when they come downstairs. Although both wolves are aware of their presence, neither move from their vigil by the window, illuminated in soft golden hues by the setting sun and the lit lamp. But the peace of the moment has gone, as if by entering the room the two betas have shattered it. Now the air is charged with anticipation and it is Boyd who breaks the silence, as he and Erica take position on the floor by Isaac’s feet.

“I think we should discuss the Sheriff.”

~*~

Stiles guides his jeep back towards the depot, although this time, at a much more sedate pace. His old girl is, after all, not in her first flush of youth, and he pats the dashboard in apology for how hard he had pushed her earlier in the day. He has no idea how this meeting is going to go, only that he knows he owes it to Peter to try. The beta may put up a good show of indifference, but Derek is probably one of the only remaining people left on earth who could truly return Peter to his state of bestial insanity. Plus he knows what it’s like to have a family member ignore you, and it royally sucks.

Valiantly keeping any jokes about entering the wolf’s den to himself, Stiles steps into the depot and promptly lets out a shrill scream when a rat runs across his path. Two glowing red eyes peer murderously at him from the darkness. Well if that’s how he wants it to go.

“Jesus Derek, are you trying to give me a heart attack?! I mean, you’ve got the murderwolf glare down pat, 10/10 for effort, but don’t you think you could stand to tidy up a bit? I’ve got some rat poison under the sink at home if you need a place to start.”

The shadowed glare intensifies. So does Stiles' nerve.

“I mean, not that I’m sure you’re not fiendishly busy with installing your shark tank behind a revolving bookcase in your villain’s cave of destiny, but a line has to be drawn somewhere right? How can you appropriately intimidate someone who keeps coughing on all the dust. Also this must truly be driving your senses wild, because I can definitely hear the cockroaches chattering away behind the floorboards, and I don’t even have your wolfy ears. Also I’m pretty sure your sofa has mothballs.”

Clearly his rambling tactic wasn’t working quite so stunningly as it had in the past, so Stiles switches his approach and sits down on the mothball-smelling sofa, putting on his serious face and trying not to sigh in exasperation when this doesn’t illicit any response from the two glowing eyes and beard which are all he can make out of Derek’s face.

“Alpha Hale, I am here for two reasons. One is to establish your investment in your bond with beta Peter Hale, but we can get to that in a minute. I, firstly, wish to discuss the current situation about custody of your betas.”

That, at last, sparks a reaction. Derek slowly advances from his corner of doom and draws up a chair opposite Stiles. Finally, some progress. At least now Derek is assuming the role of a pack Alpha, in a position to negotiate.

“What betas?”

“Well, your betas. The betas you turned. Erica, Boyd and Isaac. You might have let them run off to Scott but don’t for a minute pretend you have severed those bonds. You go and check up on them. Offer them a place to stay too, from what they have told me. It is clear to us both that Scott is not capable of being an Alpha to them, and I am here to ascertain whether you are willing to reclaim your right as their Alpha.”

No reply. Derek seems to be fighting some internal battle, as a thousand emotions cross his normally stoic face. Stiles pauses a while, waiting to see if anything will be forthcoming, but when the silence stretches on, he continues.

“If you feel you can’t,” because the way Derek is looking now, small, vulnerable and hating every minute of it, that seems like a safe bet, “then there is another Alpha in Beacon Hills willing to take them in.”

At that Derek’s head shoots up. “Who?”

Stiles smiles grimly. This is one of the many parts of this conversation he doesn’t think Derek will like.

“Me.”

~*~

“The Sheriff?” Isaac’s voice is pitched higher than normal in incredulity. Even Erica was looking at Boyd in bewilderment. Peter however was nodding shrewdly.

Boyd nodded. “I don’t know if it’s just me, but has anyone seen the Sheriff in the entire time we’ve been over?”

There was a round of no’s as the pack cast their minds back to the last time they had seen Stiles’ father. Boyd started counting off on his fingers.

“We never see him. The only room in the house that smells of him is his bedroom, and even then, only faintly, suggesting he isn’t sleeping here often. There’s a pile of whiskey bottles in the bin, and we all know Stiles doesn’t drink. Peter has basically moved in, and the Sheriff has said nothing about the previously dead coma patient wandering around his house and spending time with his underage son. I honestly don’t think Stiles has told his father anything about what’s going on, so either he's out there looking for a solution on his own, or he doesn't care enough to ask for one.”

There’s a silence as the pack work out the implications of those words. Isaac turns white. Peter nods.

“When I was coming here in the evenings and giving Stiles books, he would offer me reheated food from what he’d left out for his dad. The food was still there in the morning. Stiles would wake up, realise his dad hadn’t come home and chuck it in the bin.”

“So where is he?” Isaac’s hand has tightened on Peter’s arm.

“Could be sleeping at the station.”

“Or,” offers Erica, “he could be around the Martin’s house. Lydia said she’d seen him out with her mum.”

“Either way,” says Peter. “It’s not helping Stiles. Filling this house with all of us to mask the loneliness will only work for so long. The Sheriff will return at some point, if only for a change of clothes, and we will probably all be caught. Plus this house is just not big enough to house all of us. What we need is a proper pack house, where some of us,” and here he shared a look with Isaac, “can live together as pack, and those whose parents are not in the know can visit regularly to reaffirm the bonds. I’ll start looking in the morning.”

The pack nod. Then Erica timidly raises her hand.

“Do you think we should tell the Sheriff? I mean, if something attacks, and Stiles has magic, that couldn’t be explained by an animal attack. Plus he might need protection, with Stiles as a new Alpha, he’s at risk too.”

They’re undoubtedly valid points but Boyd speaks for everyone when he says, “It’s Stiles’ decision. It’s his father, and it’s up to him to decide what to do.”

Peter agrees. “Plus, Stiles told me that it took his father years to be able to face him after his mother died. God knows how long he would need to cope with the revelation of the supernatural. I think we should spend some more time here though. Make it seem like more of a family home for Stiles.”

The pack agrees, and starts planning on things they can bring in from their own homes to give Stiles a sense of pack.

~*~

“You?!” The shocked snarl tears through the air. “How are you an Alpha? You’re not a wolf, I can’t smell it on you!”

Stiles refuses to shrink from the enraged shifted wolf before him, but it’s a close thing.

“You’re right I’m not a wolf! But I’m not entirely human either. I have a Spark.”

That seems to halt Derek in his tracks. The claws recede and he sits back down cautiously. “Explain.”

So Stiles tells him. He tells him about being pushed out of Scott’s pack. About Peter visiting him at night, giving him knowledge and ways to protect himself. He talks about the shattered look behind Peter’s eyes, how hanging on by a thread at the edges of the pack had pushed Peter dangerously close to the edge of his sanity, and how he had sought the comfort of the one pack bond that was as yet unbroken. How together they had become a pack of two, and how Peter’s belief in him and his own spark had culminated in becoming a human Alpha. How they had gradually added to their pack, first Isaac and then Erica and Boyd. How Scott had got wind of it, and how he had attacked them and Isaac’s spirited defence of their pack and their bonds. How the betas are happy in their new arrangement, but he is not the only Alpha they have a connection with.

Derek raises his head, which has dropped to stare at his lap during the course of the tale. He nods. You needn’t worry. I won’t claim them. In fact, I’ll renounce my claim on them so you don’t have to worry about my claim superseding yours. I’ll do it right now-“

“-No!” Stiles cries and starts forward as if to forcibly stop Derek. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! Please, just calm down. I see that my language was too vague, I didn’t mean that you should renounce your claim!”

Derek’s eyebrows haven’t risen from their position low on his brow. He sits back down but his wary expression does not fade. Stiles guesses he probably deserves that.

“I don’t want you to renounce your claim. I want us to share the betas between us. They miss you. We all do. And I know you miss them too. We could have days they spend with you, for training maybe, or just hanging out. Isaac says he needs your help with his paper on the Cold War. Apparently you explain it better than I do. And I’d like to have you over too. You know, just to hang out. We could have shared pack meetings. And it could be good for you too. It’s only a matter of time before Scott decided to do something even more idiotic than usual, and he might target you.”

Whilst he was saying this, Derek’s eyebrows had been steadily climbing up his forehead and had only stopped because they were in danger of crashing into his hairline. He sat in silence, staring at Stiles, before tentatively asking, “You’d want me around your betas?”

Stiles felt his heart slowly shattering. “Our betas, Derek.” He was fighting the strong urge to wrap the other Alpha up in a hug but sensed this probably wasn’t the time.

“In fact, you could come to the pack meeting we’re having for the Spring Equinox. You’d be very welcome and it’d be symbolic as well, right? New beginnings and everything? Alright that’s probably a bit too cliche, but it’d still be amazing to see you.”

The beginnings of a smile started twitching at the corners of Derek’s mouth, and Stiles really hated to burst this moment of happiness. But he knew he had to and so carried on with, “Peter will be there.”

The sort-of-smile dropped immediately and Stiles already felt its loss, almost reaching out to take back his words and do anything to put back that small ray of sunlight into this dark and gloomy place. But he’d come here to try and mediate and bridge between the two Hales and he would get to the bottom of this, no mater what.

“Can we talk about Peter?”

The statue formally known as Derek did nothing to agree or disagree. Stiles took that as tacit complicity and launched into his spiel.

“You see, I know he was a psycho who really hurt you, and I’m not asking you to forgive him for…. what he did”, somehow Stiles felt mentioning Laura’s name wouldn’t be very helpful. “But he’s sane now, or saner, and he’s happier in the pack, but I know he’s missing you like crazy”, ok possibly not the best choice of words. Stiles sighed and then started again. “He said that you were really close growing up, and I can tell he’s still protective of you, and you did save him from bleeding out on Allison’s front lawn…”

“You would have got to him in time.”

“Well… yes. I suppose that’s technically true, but you didn’t know that then. You reacted instinctively, so you must still care about him a bit- ”

“- OF COURSE I STILL CARE ABOUT HIM!” The words seemed to be ripped from Derek. He curled in on himself, tears running down his cheeks but the words kept flowing out of him like a tidal wave. “Of course I still care. He’s my only family left and I remember him loving me. Really loving me. I remember being his favourite pup out of them all. Mum,” and his voice wavered on that word, but he carried on, “Mum always liked to be around Laura. She would tell her things, pack secrets and give her first bite of any meal and it was always so important for Laura to do well in school. Everything was so much more important when Laura did it. And I don’t mind that now, I get it, I love her… I love her so much. But at the time, Uncle Peter was there. He would hug me, and talk to me, and tell me secrets and then… then…”

“And then what, Derek?”

“And then he just abandoned me! He just turned horrible. Blocked out everyone. Wouldn’t talk to any of us, started arguing with Mum over everything. He never had any time for me, would sneer at me when I asked for help. And…”

“What Derek? Tell me Derek, please let me help.”

“And when he smelt_ her_ on my skin, he just sneered and turned away!”

They must have made quite a sight. A boy and a man, kneeling in the dirt on the floor of a train depot. One shaking with tears and rocking backwards and forwards, the other bent over him, aching to offer comfort but holding himself back. A silence hung between them, stunned by the revelation of Peter’s greatest secret. His greatest shame. Now his guilt made sense to Stiles, his pain and fear of Derek and the space he put between them, unable to explain, unable to beg forgiveness, and equally unable to bear his nephew’s rage.

Slowly Stiles’ fingers came to rest on Derek’s arm. He moved into position behind him, and carefully wrapped the still-shaking wolf up in his arms. He rubbed his nose along Derek’s neck and said nothing but pressed his chest to Derek’s back, so he could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Gradually Derek’s sobs quietened and his breathing slowed to match it, and so they sat, entwined and breathing in and out together.

~*~

The night was cold. A lingering feeling of thunder was in the air and the rain fell steadily from a gloomy sky. Hidden in the undergrowth, the wolf shivered but refused to break his vigil. His eyes were locked on the Stilinski house and the combined smell of ozone, Adderall and cooking. It had been several hours since Stiles had moved him to the sofa in the depot, wrapped him up in a holey blanket and left with promises of a warm welcome at the Equinox. Derek had followed him home, unsure why but burning with curiosity to see his old betas in their new home. He’s been sitting in the neighbours bushes for at least an hour, watching the house and hearing the laughter from within. The Sheriff hasn’t returned home yet, and the small slice of Derek’s mind which had Stiles’ phone number memorised and hoarded every new fact about him like treasure, quivers with worry at the Stilinski patriarch’s absence. Through the window, he can see Stiles taking a batch of cookies from the oven and threatening the excited betas huddled around him with a wooden spoon as he leaves them to cool on the side. It’s such a homely image, so deeply connected to memories of his own mother, and how she would make the sweetest cookies with sea salt and dark chocolate, all gooey and delicious in the middle, her hair tied up and smudges of chocolate and butter all over her face, that Derek can’t stand it and turns for home.

But where is home for him now? Peter seems to have assimilated well into Stiles’ pack. He has a home here, and Derek knows about the loft he’s rented, so he has a roof over his head.

‘_So do you_’, says a traitorous voice in his mind. ‘_But it’s not the same is it? It’s not a home. It’s barely a den._’

Derek can’t deny it and he can’t help but hate Stiles a little for the apparent ease with which he has handled becoming an Alpha. Derek was raised in a pack. His mum was the best Alpha around and he had learned from watching her around his family. He was a born wolf, and he had the Hale bloodline. And yet, Stiles had given them a home. Stiles had fed them, listened to their problems, solved their problems and surrounded them with warmth and love. Stiles coddled them, whilst he had trained them, hurt them, trying to purge them of weakness because you could never let yourself think you were safe, never let your guard down. But he had. He had let his guard down and had given up completely after a while. Part of him wanted to go back to that house and curl up a pile with all of them, soaking up the warmth of their bodies, revelling in their physicality, knowing he was surrounded by pack. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t a beta anymore and he couldn’t afford to linger in dreams of seeking his comfort and protection from others. He turned and sped off into the preserve.

His path deviates from the standard trail back to the depot. Derek consciously shuts off his brain and lets his feet guide him towards his centre, a place he hasn’t visited in months. A place that haunts his dreams.

The old Hale house rises from the gloom of the forest. Its blackened structure; creaking timbers, overgrown rooms, seems to lear out at him, taunting him with his failure. Memories drift towards him like ghosts on the breeze; his father taking him down to the lake to fish, Laura, Cora and himself racing to climb the trees and be the first to the top. His mum, pregnant with Cora, making flower crowns for them both and threading buttercups into his because they made him smile. And Peter… Peter whirling him around the garden on his back laughing and laughing and laughing even as they got dizzy. Peter chasing him up and down the stairs pretending to be a Pirate King, or a Dragon or a Roman centurion with a bedsheet for a toga. Peter giving him the tenderest meats off of his plate, Peter reading him stories when Laura had gone to sleep, Peter helping him control his shift and spending hours outside every day, listening to the wind in the trees trying to find his anchor. Peter who had been such a huge part of his childhood that he couldn’t look into a single room in the house or area of the preserve that didn’t have a Peter shaped memory hiding in it. Living without him seemed so pointless now and Derek was too exhausted to fight. He let go of his anger and resentment, acknowledging the pain he was causing both Peter and himself and with it, a blindingly warm feeling of contentment rose in his chest as his Hale pack bond burst to life, singing with gratitude and pleasure. A smile worked it’s way onto his face until he was grinning like a loon in the dark. The house in front of him no longer seemed cold. In fact, every beam and timber seemed to glow with potential and promise. The old Hale pack was gone, but a new one could take it’s place. In his mind’s eye, Derek could see a porch swing for Erica and Boyd to cuddle on in the summer. He could picture a library for Stiles with a potion room attached so he could live out his inner Professor Snape fantasies. There was a room for Isaac, one of his very own, an office for Peter, and for him, miles and miles of garden where he could run and play and make flower crowns for the entire pack and even Peter would wear one. And Stiles would be everywhere, just like Peter was already. He would be in the kitchen, filling the house with wonderful smells. He would be in the living room, making a cork board for the pack meeting. He’d be with the betas playing video games, and out in the preserve running with them under the full moon, his red jersey flashing between the trees and his amber coloured eyes filled with laughter.

In the darkness, Derek sunk to his knees and let tears of joy sink down into the earth at his feet, letting them wash away the memory of all the angry tears shed here before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, so this chapter has taken so long! I hope it's ok (but please tell me if you find any mistakes.) it was my first time writing Derek so I hope he wasn't too OC. Also I wanted to show the snarky side of Peter is still present so I hope that came across!


	6. You Don’t Have To Be Mad To Work Here (Because, Trust Me, It Doesn’t Help!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, this is the proverbial late Christmas present, several days late of schedule! I hope everyone had a good holiday and that you enjoy this beast of a chapter. As ever this is unbeta'd so please let me know if you find mistakes.
> 
> New allies reveal themselves, and things move forward for the pack. Scott gets a taste of what's coming to him and Derek's wounds start to heal.

It wakes in a cold sweat, arms reflexively wrapping around it’s body and letting out a ragged sigh as it’s brain relaxes minutely at finding warm flesh under it’s fingers. There’s not a sound in the house. The clock on the wall indicates it’s 4 am and the tiniest rays of pre-dawn light peep out from behind the curtains. This is the first time it has slept for days, and it already knows it won’t be enough, but it can’t sleep. Can’t allow itself to rest when even the smallest possibility exists of becoming that thing once again. It’s trying so hard, so very very hard to get back to who it was. It stays away from it’s old friends. It doesn’t know why but it still fears instinctively that the thing might come back out if it’s too tempted. So it stays away, goes straight home after school and never leaves it’s room, not even for meals. It can’t afford to get angry at those people who used to be it’s parents so it eats from a tray sent up to it’s room and sits on the bed, staring at the wall. It needs to do this. The wall is an off-white colour, it has a small crack in the upper right corner. The moulding around the base is scuffed and it knows that if it were to pick at a specific place, almost hidden by the wardrobe, it would find two initials enclosed in a heart behind the paint. 

Sometimes it’s weak and closes it’s eyes. Sometimes it grips the covers with hands that sprout claws and keens in a voice that it didn’t use to have. Sometimes in the depths of the night, when the loneliness has it in its grip and it can’t fight it anymore, it will sometimes stroke the threadlike string in it’s chest, a string that thrums with potential and promise, conjuring up soft smiles, warm eyes and the brush of a hand down it’s back. But those nights are scarce. It usually has much better control. It understands that this is it’s punishment. This is how it earns forgiveness and it cannot, absolutely cannot, be weak. It focuses again on the wall, eyes moving from the crack, to the moulding, to the hidden place from years ago. The wall was there when it was still a person, and it hasn’t changed as it has been changed. If it can just keep staring at the wall, maybe the voices will go away, maybe the thing’s instincts and pushing and never-ending pining and screaming and hissing will all go away. Maybe. Maybe if it stares hard enough, and stays quiet enough, then eventually, maybe, it could have a name again. 

~*~

For the Stilinski pack, life goes on. Erica celebrated the relative peace by sitting them all down and inflicting individual makeovers on each member, all except Peter who pleaded a sudden allergy to eyeshadow. Boyd’s only response was to raise one plucked eyebrow at him but still faithfully distracted his girlfriend with a hot-pink polish for his toenails. It took Isaac comparing the dark-skinned muscled hulk of a teenager to Princess Peach to fully incite Erica’s not inconsiderable wrath, and the pack parked themselves on the sofa to watch as she chased the sniggering beta around the living room, bellowing a war cry and brandishing a glittery hairbrush. Boyd smirked all afternoon. Stiles just laughed himself silly all the way through his, and then proceeded to flutter his eyelashes at himself in the mirror, loudly demanding how such a pretty young lady ended up in a place like this. 

In the build up to the Spring Equinox, the group began preparing to celebrate their first ritual as a pack. Peter started bringing over even more weird and wonderful plants, placing them around the front and back doors, and carving runes into the bottom of their pots. Boyd and Isaac started researching the ritual online and immediately ran into a myriad fo facebook groups and online shops, all only too eager to offer advice. They order candles scented like petals and herbs, and go out into Isaac’s field to look for lavender or rosemary to tie into little bouquets and hang in the windows. They come back laden with flowers of all types and Stiles hugs them both a little too tightly, mumbling into Isaac’s shoulder about how his mum had always liked flowers around the house. They both look away when he tries to subtly wipe his eyes.

Keeping in mind the revelations about the Sheriff, the pack make small contributions to the house. Erica starts washing the bed sheets in the same conditioner that she and Boyd use. Isaac leaves a change of clothes in Stile’s wardrobe and Peter sets up a small bookshelf, bringing over fiction books such as Frankenstein and The Book of the Duchess to debate about with Stiles over tea and biscuits. Peter’s mood had improved exponentially since the bond with Derek reopened and, although they haven’t met face to face yet, having that link to each other and knowing that they can send feelings of reassurance and acceptance to each other seems to have lifted a huge weight off Peter’s shoulders. He hums while he works and even offered Isaac the use of his loft, if he ever wanted another option besides Erica’s floor or the Stilinski house. Isaac had blushed and even shyly given him a brief hug. Peter’s look of startled joy was well worth the embarrassment that followed.

~*~

Under Peter’s orders, the pack stuck together during school hours, using the busy hallways to avoid the remnants of Scott’s pack. In class, they sat in pairs, and during lunch they would take advantage of the warmer weather to eat lunch in the stands, now with the compulsory Stilinski home bakes. It seemed that this technique was having an effect, as Scott made no further attempts to get Stiles on his own and contented himself with shooting glares over at the group, from his position sandwiched between Kira and Allison. The difference between the two packs could not be more apparent; whilst before Scott’s pack was welcoming to everyone except Stiles, now it seemed that a shift had taken place, and the pack emanated a defensive prickliness, huddling together for safety from an oncoming storm. In contrast, Stile’s pack, whilst wary, were in much better spirits, often laughing and joking quietly together in the corridors between classes. Stiles, in particular, made sure to scent mark and touch his pack mates often; clapping them on the shoulder, or running a hand down their arm to reaffirm their bonds, and consequently there was a greater sense of contentment rising from the Stilinski pack, reflected in their wide smiles and boisterous laughs.

The pack was in the library, having commandeered one of the largest tables and spread their respective homework out over it, in an attempt to get it all done before the last bell. It was Erica’s turn to cook this evening, which, in real terms, meant everyone else would be cooking so as to avoid the kitchen bursting into flames. Erica had pouted, but ultimately agreed, hence the mad scramble to get as much as possible finished beforehand. Boyd was painstakingly working his way through a science worksheet, while his girlfriend had buried herself in a French dictionary and would only emerge to mumble random verbs before diving back in again. At the other end of the table, and separated from the other two by a shelf’s worth of history textbooks, were Stiles and Isaac, the former half-concentrating on giving the latter points for his essay on the Battle of Waterloo, whilst simultaneously researching the rare examples of monogamy in birds for an essay to annoy Harris. So far he had only found the Black Vulture, and from looking at it, he assumed its fidelity was not by choice.

Stiles was just debating whether or not to include some sort of cock and tit reference in the conclusion just for the laughs, when a shadow fell over the table. Looking up, the pack froze at the diminutive form of Kira, who was lugging a Spanish textbook under her arm and blinking back tears. The pack looked at each other, each one silently daring the other:

‘You ask her!’

‘No, you ask her!’

‘Well I’m not going to ask her!’

Eventually, all eyes had turned to Stiles, who supposed his time to suck it up and start Alpha-ing had come. Standing up, he ushered Kira to his chair and sat in the next one along, slowly running his fingers up and down the hand clutching the textbook, so that, one by one, they gradually unclenched and Kira’s delicate sniffles calmed down. She slowly shifted in her seat, her eyes burning a hole on the table to avoid anyone’s gaze, and lay her head on Stiles’ shoulder; burying her face in his neck. Stiles’ arms came up to cradle her spine, as he made soft crooning noises into her ear. telling her that it was all alright, that she was fine, and that they would do everything they could to fix it. 

~*~

To put it mildly, Kira had not been having a good day. None of her days had been particularly good recently, ever since Stiles’ ostracisation from the pack to be honest, and today had been when she finally reached her limit. She had never really bonded with the rest of the pack, Scott had been the only real tie she’d had, and although she liked Stiles, she didn’t really know him well enough to contradict her boyfriend when he said Stiles could no longer be trusted. Plus she had so much going on at home; the revelation that her mother had kept so many secrets from her had not gone down well, and she almost dreaded going home now, knowing only barbed words and wounded silences awaited her.

In the absence of family support and any other real friends at school, Kira’d turned to Scott for help, but found him increasingly distant. The change had been so gradual that, looking back, she couldn’t pinpoint a time when she’s felt the shift from her happy-go-lucky puppy-like boyfriend, to this cold, cutting person she was faced with. Time together used to be filled with laughter, homework help and domestic activities, cooking or watching films together, liberally sprinkled with make-out sessions. Now however, their time together had shrunk to simply sitting together at lunch, being forced to watch up close as Allison and Scott discussed anything and everything, from school work to the topics at the next pack meeting, excluding all other input. As the weeks passed, Kira had stopped even trying to engage in what they were saying and had just sat next to her boyfriend, a silent statue who supposed she should be grateful she was even allowed to be this close to the True Alpha and hadn’t already be relocated further down the table. What little time they did spend alone was now filled exclusively with forceful kisses, always initiated by Scott, where he’d push her up against things or grip her shoulders tightly, and then stride off after Allison, leaving her shaking behind him. She knew it wasn’t good or healthy, but the contrast in her memories of Scott before the Nogistune and now was so stark that she almost began to doubt their validity. Maybe she was remembering her sweet Scott, who cared about animals and couldn’t even toast bread without burning it, with rose tinted spectacles, and in fact he had always been like this, and her life with him had always been filled with pain and tears. There was no way out of this now anyway, the pack would be no help, as Lydia couldn’t care less about her and Jackson just sat at the table, saying nothing and playing with his food. She couldn’t appeal to her parents, her mother’s disappointment of her was palpable and this would just add fuel to the fire, and she hadn’t been here long enough to form any connections to the staff or any other students. With Stiles and his new friends entirely cut off from her, she seemed to have no way of escape.

She’d awoken this morning with a new resolution. She would make Scott appreciate her again, after all she'd done it once before, and once he’d fallen in love with her once more, she would discover what she had done to make him angry and put it all right. Buoyed up by her faith in her plan, she breezed through her first classes and waited outside the cafeteria to catch Scott and persuade him to help her with her Spanish. He loved being able to teach others, and no doubt, if she acknowledged his cleverness and begged for his help, he’d bend and they could finally be alone. 

As she was waiting, she was, fatefully, in the perfect place to hear his and Allison’s approach and overhear their conversation. 

“-can’t remember what I saw in her now. She been so clingy nowadays and right now, her hanging off me like a limpet is the last thing I need. That’s why I’m so glad I can come to you Ally, I know I can always rely on you.”

Kira shrank back against the wall as the two passed, helpless to stop them or hide from Allison’s triumphant smile.

~*~

Stiles’ arms have tightened around Kira’s middle as she was telling them what had been going on, and now they’ve reached python levels of constricting. As the pack surrounded Kira, offering everything from immediate induction, to the one remaining patented Stilinski shortbread, (jealously guarded by Boyd), their eyes met and everyone agreed: Scott is going down. The True Alpha had finally gone too far, and now, this means War. 

The entire pack, Peter included, stayed up late, sorting out their plan of attack, and the next morning, they prepared to unleash hell. 

Erica caught up with a pack of her on-and-off friends from among the popular set, and casually mentioned that she’d heard that Lydia had got gonorrhoea off of Scott, and that was why Kira had left him. Suddenly Lydia’s posse had vanished into his air, and the rest of the Lacrosse team were avoiding Scott like the plague. 

Isaac and Boyd had bodied together with the rest of the Lacrosse team and, come evening practice, they formed a restrictive circle so Scott never got anywhere near the ball, and if he did, he got flattened under the weight of two very angry weres.

Peter (who was particular protective of Isaac and is a sucker for those puppy eyes and curls) called the school as a concerned citizen, saying he overheard Scott McCall planning to sell drugs to the younger years, leading to Scott’s name being put on a list, his locker searched and the teachers tailing him from class to class.

Erica, who, for some reason, is a favourite of Harris’, just happened to loudly mention Scott boasting about how he didn’t need chemistry, and how the teacher was so rubbish he’d probably give him a passing grade by mistake. Unsurprisingly Scott gets weeks of detentions, unsticking chewing gum from under desks and cleaning a strange blobby mess on the ceiling after an experiment went wrong, as well as months of assignments that Harris retrospectively remarked.

Stiles, however, went for the Doomsday Option. One evening when Scott was in detention, he popped round to visit Melissa. Sitting down at her kitchen table and sipping the coffee she’d happily brewed him, he launched into a 30 minute long spiel, telling Melissa everything that had been happening in school, leaving out the supernatural stuff though. He went into everything; Scott deliberately cutting him off from his friends because of a mistake, Scott’s indifference to Isaac’s trauma about his father, dossing his way through school, dismissing Erica and Boyd, his violent overreactions as Stiles picked himself up and apparently ‘stole’ his friends, finally finishing with Scott’s abusive relationship towards Kira, just knowing that would be the spark to light the touch paper. Stiles even threw in the rumours about the STD and the drugs for good measure and by the time he left, Mrs McCall was steaming and promising retribution on “that ungrateful, lazy and shameful son of mine!” 

All in all, Stiles felt like they’d done a good day’s work. The next morning, the pack were graced with the sight of Scott’s poleaxed expression, having lost his girlfriend, the team’s high esteem, the teacher’s fond tolerance and his mother’s pride in one fell swoop. The table seemed so much emptier now, as he, Allison and Lydia huddled together, watching the Stilinski pack laughing and carousing on the opposite table, Kira sitting between Erica and Boyd, both of their arms around her. Stiles had even baked a cake for the occasion.

~*~

As all this was going on, Peter had battles of his own to fight. The bond between him and Derek had been growing ever stronger with the lack of negative feeling between them, but he knew that this tentative alliance could not support itself alone. They would both need to talk this out, and he knew that Derek would be seeking answers he wasn’t entirely prepared to give. Nonetheless, Peter steeled his resolve and drove to the train depot, mentally berating himself as he did for not seeing what was now clear as day. The depot, cutting himself off from his own betas, denying himself any luxury; Derek had been punishing himself in the absence of his own alpha, Talia, to do it for him.

The depot was empty, and so Peter waited, wondering as he did so what exactly Derek did around here. How did he fill up the time? He sincerely hoped that he didn’t just sit around here, mired in his own misery, although if he did, it was no wonder he could do nothing but blame himself. Footsteps appeared outside, and within a minute Derek stepped in, tugging his shirt over his head.

“Just went for a run. Felt you come in.”

“Oh?”

“Stiles set up a few wards round the perimeter. Wanted to give me some protection.”

Peter’s face broke into a grin. “Yeah, he’s good at doing that.”

They sat in silence for a while, both unsure about how to proceed. They may have moved on from hostile enemies into warmer territory, but there was still an awkwardness that filled the silence between them. Eventually Peter had reached his limit and stood up sharply. Derek flinched as if he’d been struck. Sighing, Peter sank back onto the sofa, extending his arms. 

“Oh shit, Derek, I didn’t mean…”

“No! I mean, it’s alright…”

“No it’s not. Look, just come up here will you.”

Derek cast a doubtful look at his uncle, but when Peter’s arms didn’t drop, despite the wait, he scrambled onto the sofa, burrowing his head into Peter’s neck. He felt arms close around him, felt their familiar warmth, and the contented humming of the pack bond between them, playing a feedback loop of reassurance and gratitude. 

“I’m sorry pup,” murmured Peter, his lips pressed against Derek’s forehead. “I’m so sorry for all of it.”

“Why?” gasped Derek, the word forcing itself out of of his choked throat. “Why didn’t you say anything? You smelt her on me, and you did nothing. You said I could come to you about anything, but when I… when I…”

“When you needed me, I wasn’t there.” Derek felt a tear slide down into his hair, and a well of anguish for his uncle rose up within him.

“Please just tell me why."

Peter shifted beneath him, rearranging them so they were face to face.

“It wasn’t your fault Derek. It wasn’t because of anything you did. This is all on me. I wasn’t in a good place back then, but that’s no excuse, I should have made time for you. I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But you have to believe me, you did nothing wrong.”

Derek nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and Peter’s eyes softened. 

“Come here Pup.” The arms wrapped around him again, setting up a steady stroking rhythm across his back. “It started about a year before the fire. I was working as Pack Enforcer, and for a particular mission, I had to go away to the Olympic Peninsula. I was tracking a scavenger pack of rogue wolves. Their leader had a long standing grudge against Talia’s and my parents and so Talia feared that they may become a threat. They were recruiting in every town they ransacked and by the time they made their way south to us, their pack would be too vast for us to take out. It turned out when I was there, that I wasn’t the only one hunting them. I was younger then, less cautious and I’d managed to get myself captured by the leader. He quickly found out I was Talia’s brother and started having a little fun at my expense.”

At this point Derek’s arms tightened around Peter’s waist, and he chuckled, bussing a kiss into his hair. 

“Don’t worry Pup, I’d withstood worse by then. But I was in a bit of a pickle, trying to work out a way of escape and hopefully take their Alpha out with me. Things were looking a tad precarious, until he came in.”

“He?”

“The other one on the scavenger’s trail. Clearly a hunter, very well trained. He was an expert marksman, hit his target every time. After 10 minutes, the pack were dead around me and the hunter approached me. I was ready to fight for my life, but, it turned out, I didn’t have to. The hunter freed me and offered me shelter with some medial supplies to lie low while I healed. I was wary of course, but I was less jaded than I am now, and I reasoned that he could have just shot me when I was tied up, if he was going to kill me at all. I followed him.”

Peter sighed. “He was true to his word. He gave me food, drink and tended to my wounds. With a lack of anything other to do, we talked. He told me he’d been a hunter from infancy, that his father had brought them up knowing no other way of life. He’d left at 18, honed by his family and his experiences into a perfect weapon, and had travelled the world, gaging for himself how much of what he had been told was true. He’d met with werewolf packs, learned about traditions and hierarchies, even participated in a full moon run. He wanted to be different from his family. He told me his name was Marcus. We, um, got closer, and well, one thing led to another..”

Derek’s face had started to look distinctly constipated. “How exactly is this relevant?”

“Patience Pup, I’m getting there. When I woke up the next morning, there was a brand new bond sitting in my chest. Marcus was my mate. Not unsurprisingly I freaked out about it. Mates aren’t rare but I’d never felt the bond before and there were so many complications, that I dint know what to do. I could hardly bring a hunter, albeit an enlightened one back home. Talia would have a fit and probably cast me out. And we’d only spent a day together tops, we barely know each other. So I said nothing but that I hoped we could do it again some time. He was keen so we exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact. It was a wrench to let him go, it felt like my heart was being pulled through my ribcage, but we parted and I went back to Beacon Hills. It was difficult without my mate. Even easy tasks felt onerous and I know Talia noticed the difference in me, but she never said anything. I was barely holding on, had even started researching ways of severing the bond myself, but every wrench at my heart was a glorious agony because it was proof. I now had proof that I had my own mate, that there was someone out there who could care for me, and only me, someone for whom I would come first. Marcus was my hope for myself, that I was worthy of being loved, despite the horrible things I’d done in the name of the pack. We texted and I think he felt something similar, because he never stopped messaging me, and he told me he missed me. I dreamed of a time I could bargain my way out of Talia’s pack and set off to find him. For all that it was torture being away from him, I remember that time fondly, because there were dreams and tentative plans and hope. But then he sent me a message, saying that his father had called him home, and that he had to go. I was worried, almost frantic, because I knew Marcus feared nothing as much as his father and I wanted to keep him safe. But before I could do anything, Talia sent me out on another mission. The Argents were tipping the boat again, going too near our territory borders, making veiled threats, and now she’d heard that they were recalling old members back home. I was to tail the latest member from the airport, find out who he was. Looking back, I feel so angry I didn’t spot it. The similarities were so plain to see but in my love-driven haze I didn’t put it together. It came as such a shock when I saw Marcus being picked up and driven to the Argent compound. I could feel him, the proximity increased the bond tenfold and I was completely blindsided.”

“So Marcus was Chris?”

“Yes. I mean, I should have realised it. If you were a hunter and you’d just released an injured werewolf, you’re hardly likely to give him your real name. I wised up a lot after that.”

The silence once again descended, but this time there was no embarrassment, no awkwardness. Just the weight of an overload o information and Peter watched as Derek struggled to process it all. 

“So what happened next?”

“Well I confronted him. He was as shocked as I was that I was there. It took several clandestine meetings and angry messages to sort out exactly what was going on, but Chris held no real love for his family and eventually told me that Gerard was planning to reignite the Argent name as the most feared family of hunters across America. And he was going to start with us. I warned Talia and we started preparing, spreading the word throughout the other packs, calling for reinforcements. We met Gerard in a stalemate. He was delusional but not suicidal and Chris had given us enough time to form a strong defence. Gerard backed down and we all thought that was the end of it. Chris stayed and we started meeting secretly. The bond between us grew stronger everyday until both of us could feel it with equal strength. We waited until the full moon, and then we snuck out into the preserve. I gave him a mating bite, as did he, and stood before the moon, bound together forever.

Things started to go downhill from there. I don’t know if or how Talia found out, but she t=started sending me on missions further and further away for longer periods of time. We still kept in touch, but the mate bond was fragile after being torn away from each other after so little time together. I feared for our future, but Talia would not back down. And then Gerard threw his oar in. He brought a woman to the compound, tall, beautiful, elegant, lethal. All perfect attributes in an Argent bride, and my polar opposite. Similarly I don’t know if Gerard suspected his son was essentially already married to a werewolf, or if he just wanted to further control Chris, but I came home one day to find Chris sobbing in our bed. I tried so hard to persuade him to leave. I promised to break with Talia, we could find another pack to belong in, or a rogue Alpha for me. Was certain the mate bond would be enough to anchor me, but Chris was sceptical. He refused to do anything to destabilise the Hale pack. Gerard was growing more ambitious in his plans, and by running away with the Left Hand, he’d leave the pack defenceless. And he knew I couldn’t stay away from my family. Talia and I may not have been on good terms but I adored you all and I could never abandon you to the Argents. And Chris couldn’t fight his father for long. His entire childhood had been one set of conditioning and abuse after another. We promised each other that this wouldn’t change anything, that we’d withstood distance before and we could do it again. We were mated now and no-one could take that away from us. We were hopelessly naive.

It was the birth of Allison that really did it. By the point we barely saw each other, Gerard had such a story hold over Chris he rarely left the compound, spending all his time with his wife and child. I couldn’t stand it anymore, and so I left, trying to run away from the bond, actively hoping it would snap and I’d be free. Talia let me run, not seeming to care either way as Gerard appears to have settled down. It took years for her to call me back, saying that another threat was coming. It appears Deaton had warned her, but what with him being his usual cryptic self, we had nothing more to go on. I was at a bit of a loss, running perimeter checks every night, attempting to renegotiate treaties to prepare for a storm I couldn’t see. Chris had moved away with his family, but every acre of the preserve, every corner of the town seemed to broadcast his presence. And then I smelt her on you.”

Derek flinched again, but turned into his uncle, cuddling closer for comfort, and Peter’s arms cocooned around him.

“I promise you Derek, if I had any idea what was really going on, if I’d known what she was doing to you, what she was telling you. But I was bitter, jealous. She smelled so like him, so similar to how I remembered him, that I tried to avoid you as much as possible. It was inexcusable of me, I should have made the connection, factored in your age, but all I could see was that you had the closest thing to Chris left in this town, and I’d lost him forever.”

Derek was silent as he absorbed what he’d learned. “You ignored me, because you were in pain.”

“Yes. It’s not an excuse. I should have protected you.”

“She was hurting me and you didn’t want to notice. She was sleeping with me, and you didn’t care. She, she r-raped me and you left me on my own.”

Peter’s wolf keened. “I know, I know. I’m so so sorry Pup. I'm so sorry.”

Derek didn’t say anything else, just clung to his uncle as his tears flowed down Peter’s chest. 

~*~

Isaac sat up in bed, panting. His face streamed with tears that he didn’t remember shedding and his back was sticky with sweat. Gasping, his eyes roved around the room, trying to centre himself. This was fine, he was in Stiles’ house. He was in Stiles’ room, in fact, Stiles was just there, on the bed, snoring. Everything was going to be alright. He lay back against his pillows, trying to remember his dream. He’d been cold, trapped inside some sort of carcass. He could still smell the stench of death in his nostrils. He’d been beating on the carcass to try and get out, but no-one had come so he’d curled into a ball, trying to keep warm. It was so cold and the smell was so bad that he’d close his eyes, trying to picture a way out. But when he’d opened his eyes, there’d been nothing but a flash of scales and a sharp stab of gut-wrenching fear. Isaac massaged his chest. He could feel his pack bonds so clearly now, and whilst they all thrummed with sleep, he could identify each one. Erica smelled of bubble gum and lipgloss, it was sunny and bouncy, like her hair. Boyd smelt like sandalwood, and was steady and reliable, like oak. Peter’s always smelled a little of smoke and pain, but there were happier hints, like allspice and leather and the feeling of relief after a really good hug. He didn’t really have a bond to Kira yet, but he could still sort of feel her, flashes of her like a fox running through tall grass, like laughter on the wind. In a similar way, he could still feel Derek, although not as strongly as he could the rest. Derek smelled of smoke as well, as if his lungs were still full of it, and a crushing sea of misery seemed to accompany the bond. Isaac was pleased he sill had a link to Derek, but the bond reminded him so often of how he’d feel all those years ago, that he tried not to brush against it too often. And of course, he could feel his bond with Stiles. Stiles’ bond thrummed with possibility, with a thousand questions and answers chasing themselves in constant succession. There was the smell of adderall, of cookies cooked just right, still gooey in the middle and the chocolate just melted. He smelt of dusty books and cut grass and red bull, none of which seemed to go together but seemed to intermingle to form this wonderful and exclusively ‘Stiles’ scent. 

But there was something else. A presence almost behind the bonds, something that would press into their comforting heat for just a moment, before slipping away as soon as Isaac made a move to catch it. It was there now, an oppressive weight on his heart and Isaac yearned to touch it, to help it and make it happy, but it always stayed just out of reach. 

Squirming in the makeshift bed, Isaac stilled suddenly as he encountered a cold damp patch. No, he couldn’t have, not again. But he had, he realised as he examined more closely. The shame enveloped him, he hadn’t wet the bed since he was 11, and now he does it here, in the pack house, on the sheets, that-

The sheets! 

They were Stiles’ sheets, he’d made up the bed that night while Isaac was having a shower. Isaac needed to get them clean before he woke up. As quietly as he could Isaac stripped the camp bed of the soiled sheets and crept towards the bathroom, forgetting about the dodgy step and freezing when it creaked ominously. Fleeing into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, Isaac turn on the light and started furiously scrubbing at the sheets, and then soaking them in the bath. 

A knock on the door almost makes him jump out of his skin, but Stiles’ voice interrupts his panic.

“Isaac? Are you alright? You need some help?”

He doesn’t answer. If he lets him in, the game’s up and he won’t be able to sleep here and what if Stiles sends him away for good, what if he sends him back home, because all he is is a dirty, disgusting little boy and he’ll never be good for anything, how stupid he’d been thinking he’d be able to escape…

There are strong, warm arms around him and a hand petting his hair, and he can feel himself surrounded by his Alpha and he burrows into the warm chest in front of him. As his breathing calms down, he can hear Stiles’ voice;

“It’s alright, it’s all going to be fine, I’m here now and whatever it is, we can sort it out, I promise, okay, I promise… Isaac? You back with me buddy?”

Isaac nods, sniffling.

“Ok, so don’t worry. I can see you’ve had an accident and that’s alright. No need to worry, accidents happen and it’s not your fault. I’m not angry, no one’s going to be angry, we’re just going to get you some new pjs, here they are, can you stand up? Very good so I’m going to sort out the sheets and you can get changed into something more comfortable and then we can go back to bed ok?”

Isaac nods again, taking the pjs and tuning his back to get changed.

After he’s cleaned up and in new clothes, which Stiles must have left on the radiator because they’re still warm, Stiles leads Isaac back into his bedroom and curls up in the bed next to him, keeping his arms wrapped around Isaac’s shaking torso.

“Was it…was it a nightmare about him?”

Isaac shook his head. “I think there’s someone out there who needs help.” He explained about the presence in his chest, a tiny hint of something that seems so heavily weighed down. 

Stiles nods, “Then we’ll help them. I’ll talk to Peter in the morning. Maybe he’s heard of something like this. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this. That’s what pack does right!”

Yes thought Isaac as he drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his Alpha’s arms. That’s exactly what pack does.

~*~

The Spring Equinox arrived, rather fortunately on a Sunday, and the entire pack crammed into the Stilinski house to help with preparations. Stiles insisted on a full Spring Clean, claiming that there was sense to the old adage about brightening up your home will brighten up your life. And so the pack were set to task, polishing and vacuuming, whilst Peter and Isaac laced ribbons round the banisters, hung lavender bars in the windows and watered the now, impressive, collection of plants scattered around the house. Stiles was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, making salads, quiches and cakes upon cakes upon cakes. 

The entire pack came outside to help Stiles plant a row of red geraniums in the long neglected flower bed. He said that his mother had loved them, and that when she’d been alive, this bed had always been full of the cheerful little plants. Without her around and Stiles and his father too grief stricken, the flowers had withered, but now the bed would be restored. They gathered around him in a hug as he stood there, looking down at the bright blooms, Peter’s hand resting on his shoulder.

They were gathered around the table, about to dig into the huge meal Stiles had prepared, when there was a tentative knock at the door. Derek stood on the porch, scowling up a storm and clutching something behind his back. 

“You said that I could come.”

Stiles grinned. “I did. Come in. We’ve just started eating.”

Peter emerged from a corner. “If I could have a word, Derek?”

Derek nodded and followed him back into the garden, as Stiles threw up a silencing ward to give them some privacy. 

Peter shuffled his feet, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I told myself I wouldn’t push you. And I won’t. It’s just we left things a little open ended before and I… well, I suppose I was just-“

“-Peter, it’s ok. I mean, it isn’t. What you did wasn’t, well it wasn’t ok, but I can’t blame you. When I came back from New York, after…” The both skirted around saying ‘after you went mad and killed my sister and I had to set you on fire and claw your throat out.’ “I was a real mess. I was horrible, really hurtful to the betas. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, none of them should forgive me. I promised them a better life, a stronger life, yet I lead them into danger again and again, and I didn’t even care for them or look after them. I didn’t, still don’t, know how to do that. But Stiles…”

“Yeah Stiles. He’s good at that side. I mean, he’s still not healed either, but it helps him to care about others and forget himself for a while. And in turn, we care about him.”

Derek nodded, and then squared his shoulders. “I forgive you, Uncle Peter, and I accept your apology.”

Peter’s face broke into a wide smile and he grabbed Derek into a bear hug, burying his face into his nephew's neck and muttering, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over again.

Derek let out a watery laugh. “It feels really good to forgive. Finally.”

They stood there, wrapped up in each other, with their bond singing between them, until Stiles’ voice issued from the house, telling them they’d “better get in here or your food will be cold, I’m not going to magically reheat my wonderful food if you’re late!”

Peter and Derek grinned at each other. “Coming!”

~*~

Isaac and Boyd had made space for Derek and he sat between them, looking around menacingly and gripping his fork. He thrust out the package he’d been hiding towards Stiles. 

“It’s a bottle. Of Dandelion and Burdock. We always used to drink it, everyone did. It’s good.”

Peter nodded. “Everyone would get a glass, even the children. It was traditional as the herbs would invigorate the body after the hardships of winter, and cleanse the blood for the new year.”

Derek nodded sharply and looked down at his plate. 

Conversation seemed initially strained but it soon recovered. Stiles and Erica injected a light-hearted reverence to the proceedings, cracking jokes and telling stories and Peter would weigh in with interesting details. Everyone complimented the cooking and even Derek started to smile quietly, relaxing into the joyful atmosphere. Peter produced amulets he’d crafted himself and intended as further protection against whatever Beacon Hills would throw at them next. Stiles and Peter told the rest of the pack about Isaac’s dream, and all agreed to keep an eye out and make more of an effort to reach out to those who might be struggling. Erica suggested that they start including Kira in pack meetings. The kitsune was essentially pack-less now, and rejected as she felt from he family, it couldn’t hurt to offer some support. Peter nodded.

“It will help us as well. As it stands now, McCall is the only threat to the pack. Strength in numbers will be a great asset against a True Alpha. If nothing else, the pack growing will increase it’s stability. To that end, I’ve been looking for houses. I was thinking that having a pack house that was big enough for all of us would be-“

At this point he cut himself off, as Derek had jumped so violently, his knee had banged against the table. The pack changed glances. Speaking with Derek sometimes felt like navigating a minefield and no-one knew quite what to do if one went off.

Stiles leant forward. “Is everything ok, dude?”

“Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles grinned. “Ok buddy, friend, mucker, bro, any of the above. You ok?”

Derek’s lips twitched. He nodded. Still staring a hole in his plate he muttered, “I might have an idea about that.”

“Oh?”

Derek carefully raised his head, although he still avoided eye contact. He nodded again. “Iwasthinkingofrebuildingtheoldpackhouse.”

Peter let out a strangled sort of cough. “I’m sorry, nephew, but could you repeat that? Slower?”

Derek sighed. “I was thinking of rebuilding the old pack house.”

Silence followed his pronouncement as everyone digested exactly what that would mean.

Peter broke the silence. “I think that would be an excellent idea, Pup,” he said softly, his eyes shining. 

Derek glanced at him shyly. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded. “I mean, we can certainly afford it. And if we made it different…”

Derek nodded eagerly, seeming to warm up now that his idea wasn’t immediately rejected. “Exactly, I mean, it would have to be different, I wouldn’t want it just the same,”

“No,”

“And everyone could help, I mean design their own rooms perhaps? And you and Stiles could get the library, maybe Erica would like an art room, and Boyd could have a garage, I mean, only if you want to.” He looked around at the rest of the pack. But they were looking as excited as he was.

“A huge art room, with an industrial sink and loads of light!”

“We could set up a workshop, work on restoring old cars, maybe even give your old jeep a proper service, Stiles!”

“I could have my own room!?”

“A top-of-the-range kitchen! Oooh could we get an AGA?”

Derek leant back in his chair, and shared a glance with Peter over the heads of the pack. Here, in this fledging pack, as they planned what to have and where it could go, he could feel the future forming.

And for once it looked bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone- thanks for all your support and lovely comments! I'm glad you liked the story and I want to thank everyone who's stuck with it so far.  
I have ended this chapter on a seemingly high note, don't worry this is not the end of the story. However I am going back into my exam year so updates will be slow. This is basically a little closure before I get round to piling on more angst.  
Also let me know about your guesses for the new character (I think it’s probably fairly obvious but I want to see what you think)  
Happy new year  
Kink xx


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